Arrows Through Her Heart
by EntrancedCat
Summary: Daria is home for the summer after freshman year at Raft. She's picked up a sport and has a boring part-time job. Is she changing but still remaining the ever-in-control Daria? Quinn has some revelations about Daria which Daria must come to terms with. This is a post-canon story which would take place about a year after "Is it College Yet."
1. Wheels, Tar, Stablizer

Arrows through Her Heart

Chapter 1: Wheels, Tar, Stabilizer by EntrancedCat

Daria and related characters and situations are the property of Viacom / MTV Networks. This work is strictly for the entertainment of Daria fans and not for any monetary or material gain whatsoever.  
Many thanks to the meticulous beta-reader, northtreker, without whose help this story would be much weaker. Any errors of commission or omission, or passages you just plain don't like are strictly and solely the fault of the author.  
Please note, this first chapter is pretty tame but subsequent chapters will be much more mature in content. You've been fair-warned.

"Guess we're going back about a thousand years now." Daria heard the jibe heartily spoken from behind her as she descended the wooden steps to Lawndale's archery range. She turned with an easy retort on her lips, "Get off the training wheels and have more fun."

She had a quiver-full of barbs to throw but the sight of her opponent brought her up short: a rare event for Daria Morgendorffer who had retained her sanity in the halls of Lawndale High by always having a ready and searing riposte on her tongue.

The man behind her was not the usual middle-aged duffer practicing for hunting season. He was youngish, about twenty-five and his thick blonde hair curled tightly. Languid Alice-blue eyes regarded her mildly. Daria thought that the semi-dazed look was deceptive: intelligence and quick wit lurked ready to observe and pounce. Muscles rippled beneath a light camouflage tee-shirt. Daria had to admit that on him the camo did not look pretentious at a suburban archery range about three months before anything worth hunting was in season. The man was well over six feet tall. Daria, at 5'2'', was standing two steps below him forcing her to gaze up at him.

"If you're planning on hunting in the middle of Lawndale," Daria suggested. "I propose you help my dad rid our pleasant, respectable neighborhood of those disreputable squirrel gangs."

"You can never get in too much practice. Excuse me, ma'am," he said. "I think we both want to get to the range." He touched the bill of his Browning baseball cap as he brushed past her, fake or real deference she could not tell.

Carrying a compound bow case, he strode to a twenty-yard lane. A couple of the aforesaid middle-aged duffers greeted him, calling him 'Jason' and 'Jace' and coming over to watch him open his bow case.

Daria ignored them, stepping up to a ten-yard station to warm up. She set her own tackle case down on one of the picnic tables which Lawndale conveniently provided. She effortlessly strung her short, Hungarian-style bow. She ran fingers along the string and decided another application of wax was not needed to protect the string from the elements.

She carefully hung her bow on the peg attached to the station's high 4x4 wooden post. She put five wooden arrows in the length of wide, bottom-closed PVC pipe which was bolted to the post to serve as a stationary quiver. Daria warmed up with stretching exercises.

The wind had been kicking up dust in the parking lot. In the depression where Lawndale had built the range the only sign of the wind was the green tops of the high, mature trees swaying on all four sides of the flat grassy range.

In a rare display of eco-awareness, Lawndale had nurtured dragonflies to keep the place from becoming mosquito hell. Several species gracefully darted and dipped for their prey. Daria doubted this eco-friendliness would have happened if the previous mayor had not been indicted for buying and applying cut-rate DDT.

She glanced over at the muted hubbub two stations over. Jason had extracted the skeletal compound bow from its case and was exhibiting it to the two men. She could not tell what they were so excited about, it looked like the usual monstrous assembly of wheels and doohickeys and knobs and string crissing and crossing. The only mildly unusual feature was that the bow was in black, a departure from the more common outdoorsy browns and greens.

Jason handed the black bow to one man who hefted it reverently.

"She sure is a beaut and so light," the bald, skinny man said and passed it on to his heftier friend. "When are you guys gonna market it?"

"Now guys," Jason responded. "You know that's secret intel. I needed to get away from all the computers and spreadsheets back at the office and do some monkey-testing. Get a feel for it outside."

Daria had quickly lost interest in their goings-on. She said, "Clear!" in a loud voice signaling her intention to start shooting her bow. The three barely glanced up, reflexively saying, "Clear. We're good." She arranged four wooden arrows in her right hand and set one shaft on the string. A bit over seven seconds later she again announced, "Clear."

Five arrows were sticking in a tight grouping in the center of the target. Two older men were looking gobsmacked at her and the target. Jason was regarding her with surprise and curiosity and some amusement. Daria looked over and smiled her inscrutable Mona Lisa smile, "Do that with a wheel bow."

In response, Jason moved a couple lanes over to the forty-yard butt. He nocked an arrow in the mysterious black bow and set his wrist release clip on the string. Jason gave an initial heaving pull and held the compound bow steady as he sighted his long shot. He hooked index finger over the wrist release trigger and fired. A heartbeat later the arrow was quivering in the center of the butt. Jason turned and gave Daria a lazy grin, "Do that with a paleo bow."

Jason looked over Daria's head and announced, "And speaking of paleo, now we are going back 100,000 years."

Daria heard someone walking lightly down the steps. The man descending the steps was carrying a beautifully finished longbow. Judging from the grain and soft, honey-blonde color, Daria guessed it was made of osage orange. Over his shoulders was slung a grey leather case. Under one arm, he carried a small deer-shaped target, the kind she had seen people use to practice shooting with broadhead arrows.

Unlike Jason's developed physique, this man was wiry and rangy. He stood over six feet but not quite as tall as Jason. He moved smoothly but in peculiar fast-response twitches. In a fight she was not sure whom she would take the Vegas odds on: him or Jason. "A fight?" Daria thought. "Am I turning into Quinn...thinking about guys fighting over...uh...in front of me?"

He wore a plain black tee and his jeans were tucked into Doc Martens. His black eyes reminded her of the hematite necklace sister Quinn wore during a particularly vicious Lawndale High popularity putsch because someone had told her that hematite would protect her against the evil thoughts of the envious. He looked at her arrows and Daria saw in his eyes the pure, beautiful, sharp obsidian she had handled in introductory geology class at Raft. He wore his straight black hair longish, held in a rubber-binder.

"Tight grouping," he nodded appreciatively at her arrows and bow.

"Thanks," Daria stammered.

Jason greeted the newcomer, "Hey, Trent. You finished another bow? Great. It's beautiful."

"Trent!? Eep." Daria continued to stammer. What? She'd stopped crushing on a different Trent a long time ago.

"Yeah, Trent," Jason continued as both men turned to her. "I have a feeling Trent and I are missing something. Like your name, for instance. But to start, I'm Jason Koenig and this guy with the beautiful, though obsolete, bow is Trent Lockher."

Daria had the feeling that some sort of social convention was required of her, maybe her name? "Daria Morgendorffer," she got out.

Trent stuck out a long-fingered hand and shook. Jason laughed utterly without guile. "'Daria Morgendorffer','' he repeated. "That's enough name for the three of us. Trent, you've got to see her shoot. Daria, you've got to show Trent what you just showed me and the guys?"

"I wasn't really out to 'show' you anything, but, sure, I can be the performing monkey." Daria checked that the two other archers were just watching the show playing out in front of them, then retrieved her arrows. She again cleared her mind, held four arrows fanned out in her right hand, one on the string and snapped all five into a tight pattern in a shade over seven seconds.

"Bravo, bravo," Trent applauded sincerely. "That's amazing, I heard of fast shooting like that but never seen it nor had any idea how it was done. How did you learn to do that?"

"Brava," she corrected drily. "You cheer a woman with 'Brava'." She ignored Trent's crestfallen look.

"A tall, goofy-looking Asian guy taught me." Daria smiled as she remembered Tom Zhang and how he once described himself. "He's on the Crestmore archery team and, really, I am slow at it. Tom's much faster than me and he says his teacher is even quicker. I don't practice often enough because your hand hurts like hell to hold arrows like that."

Daria caught a sweet, piney scent as Trent swung up one flap and another sideways to open his case. It was a quiver as she guessed. He took out several homemade arrows, fletched beautifully with heads of colored glass, obsidian and flint. She had seen photos of primitive arrows but nothing like these. The arrow heads were held in place by whitish cord she thought was sinew and small dabs of a black substance.

"You made all this?" she asked.

"Except for the bow string," Trent said sheepishly as though having a modern Dacron string took away credit for all the skill and effort he had put in. "Haven't quite got that part down yet but working on it. I sell bows and arrows to folks who appreciate good, traditional workmanship but don't have time to do it themselves. I need to give this bow a final test before handing her off."

He showed her the glass-headed arrows. "These are tipped with special high-quality glass I got from the trash outside Lawndale U's art department. The best I've knapped so far; I'm still perfecting that skill too. I bet you know what sinew is and I cooked down birch bark to get the tar for adhesion."

"Trent's too modest," Jason put in. "He's one of the best archers in Lawndale and makes these beautiful bows for people who don't want to join the twenty-first century."

Daria was not sure what to make of Jason's back-handed compliments but Trent was apparently used to it. "Jace, if archery is to get popular again we gotta go back to the traditional equipment. Not saying everyone has to make their own gear but people can get more involved than just tinkering with their Allen wrenches on their wheel bows." He nodded at the black machine hanging on the post.

"But you have to agree these are superior hunting weapons," Jason asserted stroking the black bow.

Trent shook his head, "Might as well just carry a 12-gauge or .30-06. Plenty of people take deer or bigger game with these bows. You just gotta learn to stalk and take careful shots you know you can make, not pot shots from fifty yards."

Just then Jason again looked up and announced, "Hold on, now we have the four best archers in Lawndale—if not the state—here all at once."

Daria barely noted his compliment to her as she heard an even lighter tread than Trent's. She knew she might regret turning around to be tongue-tied again if previous trends were any indication of future performance. But she turned and beheld a tall woman, slightly older than herself descending the steps.

The newcomer looked at the three of them with mild curiosity. Blue eyes, black eyes and now eyes that were…blue? Yes, blue and a blue that defied her writer's powers of description. Daria's best friend Jane had alarmingly blue eyes, fiery blue-hot blue, blue as a Crayola blue crayon straight from the box blue eyes. This woman's eyes made Daria want to lie in prairies of wild-flowers to find blues to hold up against her cheek for comparison.

The newcomer's long straw-colored hair was gathered in a ponytail and secured with two sets of blue and white love-in-Tokyo hair beads. A comfortable light-grey track suit hung on a slender body.

She was carrying two big tackle bags, more equipment than most archers took to the range. She nodded at Trent and Jason giving Daria a bit more of a smile. Setting her sights on the far lane she strode past everyone.  
The newcomer opened her bags on a picnic table. She assembled a three-legged stand and then carefully put together a red-limbed Hoyt recurve bow with a sight and long red aluminum stabilizer. "She's a competitive archer?" Daria wondered. Was she trying for the Olympics?

The new-comer stretched herself and was soon taking well-aimed shots at the 70-meter Olympic butt. Daria was entranced by her form. She admired the archer's fluid draw, firm anchoring and her sure release. The round red stabilizer dipped gracefully in Kat's follow-through.

Everyone got back to the business of being at the range. Daria was shooting at a twenty-yard station drawing one arrow at a time from her hip-quiver. Trent was meditatively shooting an arrow or two at his deer-target. Jason was shooting at different yardages and making notes.

Jason noticed the woman was taking a break and called, "Kat, come over and meet Daria. She has something to show you."

Daria reluctantly hung up her bow and turned as the archer called, 'Kat' came over. Jason attempted the introductions, "Daria Morgendorf this is Kat  
Timmyse…vich…vic, ahhh?"

"Ekaterina Timofeyeva," the women pronounced in a slight accent which Daria figured was Russian. She shook hands and looked deep into Daria's hazel eyes, "Call me 'Kat' although I bet you could remember my name better than Jason and these other bums."

"Daria Morgendorffer," Daria said loudly glancing at Jason and forcing herself to not pull another Trent-induced stammer.

"Cool name!" Kat exclaimed. "What's Jason so excited about you showing me?"

For an answer Daria again placed five arrows in the butt with a speed which still amazed everyone watching.

"Wonderful!" Kat exclaimed and hugged her tightly. Daria was suddenly aware the taller woman was not wearing a bra beneath her thin track suit and tee.

She felt her face getting red. Kat held her at arm's length. "Oh, don't be so  
modest, Daria. That's some of the best shooting I've ever seen."

"Um…thanks," Daria gently broke away but not before getting caught again in Kat's blue eyes. Kat's eyes canted like her sister's Vietnamese friend Tiffany.  
"I really like to watch you shot," she told Kat. "Are you aiming for an Olympic berth?" "Aiming? Berth? My God that sounded stupid," she berated herself.

Kat turned her eyes to the blue sky. "Yes, Saint Nicholas the Wonderworker help me. Next month I have a big competition to see if I can go on to the US Olympic team qualifier. Hey, you'll find me here most every day from now on when I'm not at my boring data entry job. Come, let's shoot together, Daria! With Trent and Jason and every other guy there is way too much testosterone around here. I need another girl with me."

"That would be great," Daria tried to maintain a conversation flow. "Speaking of boring jobs, I have to go get ready for mine." She stood on tiptoe and hugged Kat. Kat gave her a big smile then returned to her practice.

As Daria was packing up Trent came over. "Hey, I'll see you around. I'd love to have you teach me your fast technique."

"Sure, Trent. I'm sure I'll see you again here," Daria returned a goodbye wave from Jason and quickly made her way up the steps.

She walked slowly along the tree-shaded, woodchip-strewn path to the parking lot. Sitting in her car she pondered just what was going on. She was usually the most confident person within any ten-mile radius, but meeting these three today had unsettled her.

"They're just archers," she told herself, "Kat even wears a bucket hat. But Jason's muscles, Trent's hands, Kat's eyes...Kat?! Why am I thinking about her? I've seen plenty of women go 're all only a few years older than me and who cares if they're all so much taller. Is it just because I'm been without a boyfriend for a year?"

Somehow Daria pushed it all from her mind. She always gave driving her utmost concentration to avoid hitting any dogs and driving was a welcome diversion that afternoon. Her job on the closing shift at the mall's "It's a Nutty, Nut World" took her mind off the archery range and its denizens.

She got into bed that night fearful of whatever dreams would come, sure of a  
restless time before falling asleep. Daria, however, fell into a deep sleep immediately. For a moment only tar, wheels, glass arrows, bows, love-in-Tokyos, hands, faces, and most of all eyes rolled through her dreamscape, then she sank into dreamless slumber. She woke up the next morning refreshed and satisfied that the past day was a fluke in her otherwise boring summer at home after freshman year.


	2. Dates to Shoot for

Arrows through her heart

by EntrancedCat

_Chapter 2: Dates to shoot for_

Daria was on the afternoon shift and chatting with her boss, Dale Arnsdorf, during slow periods. Arnsdorf was both owner and manager of the local I_t's a Nutty, Nut World_ franchise and a minority owner of the national business. The previous manager who hired Daria the year before had been promoted to a position in human relations in the national office. Daria's father Jake had come up with marketing strategies which turned the business around, like dropping one 'Nutty' from the name and the 'ty' from the final 'Nutty'.

Jake Morgendorffer came up with the idea of infusing the nuts with distinctive flavors. He emphasized to the national leaders that they needed to use only the purest, finest ingredients to add bold flavors to their nut choices, like chipotle-lime cashews, and tout the benefits of a healthy snack. Some of Jake's concoctions, however, were enjoyed by Jake alone like the apricot-lemongrass-papaya almonds.

Jake, sadly, had not been able to persuade them to change the uniforms which counter-staff like Daria had to wear. She had to serve customers in a uniform which looked like her auburn head was being eaten by a squirrel. In another move which surprised her, Jake and Quinn had redesigned the costumes and material to be less heavy, hot and scratchy. That the new designs saved money was the deal clincher with the national office. Quinn had happily banked her first professional fee for fashion design; Jake had further impressed a client, and Daria and comrades were less itchy and sweaty. Daria had never really seen her father at work; she was coming to better appreciate Jake as a father and as a businessman.

Dale had turned Daria and Jake into traditional archers the previous summer. Jake, in turn, had interested his best friend, Anthony DeMartino. The three men were planning a squirrel hunting trip to Kentucky for that fall.

Dale went into the back office. Daria scanned the scant Tuesday mid-afternoon non-crowd and wished her six o'clock quitting time were closer. Her blood froze when she saw Trent Lockher making a beeline for the nut-shop's large kiosk. He was carrying a blanket wrapped around a long, slender object and a couple large plastic canisters. Different Trent, same situation of being caught in a stupid costume doing a menial job was playing out and it made her cringe.

She was both a bit heartbroken and relieved when Trent did not seem to recognize her under the squirrel head.

"Is Dale Arnsdorf in?" Trent asked idly scanning the bins of nuts.

"Ummm…yeah," Daria said very quietly in an attempt to remain unrecognized. "I'll get him."

Trent lifted his eyes, "Pardon? Sorry, I didn't hear…Daria?"

"Hi, Trent, yeah, it's me. I'll get Dale. Then I'll jump in a vat of almonds and never resurface."

Trent burst into laughter. "Sorry, that's the dumbest uniform I've ever seen."

His sincere, mock-free laugh broke her anxiety and she laughed along before she stuck her head in the back and asked Dale to come out front.

"Trent! Whoa, you've got it for me?" Dale greeted him. "Let's see it. Just unroll your blanket on the counter."

Trent unrolled the blanket to reveal the osage orange bow Daria had seen the day before.

"Wonderful, beautiful," Dale said. "And arrows for me too. Hang on, I'll get your dough."

Dale disappeared in back briefly. He came out to begin counting one C-note after another on the counter in front of Trent and Daria. Her eyes grew wide as he stopped at eight. Taking his bow and the canisters ,Dale went into the back grinning with delight. Trent casually picked up the money and stuffed it in his pocket.

"Uhmmm…," he began, his turn to stammer. "You know they're starting a Fellini festival on Saturday at the Orpheum. Do you want to go?"

"Great, ummm…I'd like to go too." Daria was back to stammer mode too.

Trent smiled in relief and asked, "I'll pick you up at six for a bite first and I guess I'll need your phone number and address then. Though I suspect you're the only Morgendorffers in Lawndale."

Daria surprised herself with how quickly she scrawled the pertinent information on a blank receipt. Dale came back in time to see her hand it to Trent. Trent left without another word just a happy smile.

"You know," Dale observed looking at the departing Trent. "I'd say he's a great guy but that usually jinxes things but he's a great guy."

"You know him?" she asked anxious like a first-crush seventh-grader for any intel.

"Well, mostly through archery but after a while in business you kind of get a sense of people too. He's an up-and-coming bowyer and I wanted to snag one of his bows before they got even more expensive."

"So bow making is how he gets his gelt?" she asked, having learned the term from Dale.

"Not totally or even the most of it. Trent's a wizard at designing circuits for computerized control systems or some such thing I should have trained for instead of flogging nuts. And rumor has it he's a trust fund baby, although rumor also has it it's not a massive chunk of change."

"You know, Dale," Daria began. "I have a friend who just might like to meet you. If you think you can tear yourself away from inventing new flavors of pistachios, like the arsenic-cherry for instance."

Dale was startled at the abrupt change of topic. "Friend of yours? Is she big enough to peek over the bar?"

"And drink you under it," she retorted.

"Well, I'm too…Oh, what the heck. Sure, see if your friend's interested but you have to tell her right away that Tori comes first."

"I don't think she would have it any other way," the auburn matchmaker said thinking of Jane's oft absentee parents.

"Well, I'm off to go play with my new toys," Dale announced. "You and Jake will have to try them sometime."

"Don't shoot your foot," Daria warned him.

Jodie Landon showed up near the end of Daria's shift and changed into her own squirrel head. As they were chatting Daria again experienced a sudden chill as Kat approached the stand.

"Hide me or kill me," she told Jodie.

It was too late as Kat ordered, "I want a pound of those sea salt pistachios...Daria?"

"Yep, Daria. Welcome to It's a Nutty, Nut World. We're just nuts about nuts. Crunch nuts with your lunch. Buy them by the bunch. Send them to friends far away to munch." Daria recited the absurd jingle figuring all dignity was lost.

"That's the most ridiculous costume I ever saw. I thought I had a stupid job but...," Kat said giggling.

She laughed along but with more self-consciousness than with Trent. She was saved by Jodie handing Kat a bag. "Here's your pistachios, ma'am."

"Ma'am?" Kat said. "Please, I am only a couple years older than you, I bet. Please, my name is Kat. Are you a friend of Daria?"

"Friend, former classmate and now fellow nutty nutter. I'm Jodie," Jodie smiled. "Haven't I seen you by the employee elevators, Kat?"

"Yes, I have a silly job doing data entry in the top-floor offices, Jodie. I thought it was the dumbest job in the world but now I see you two."

The three young women chatted. "Oh, great," Daria said. "It's 6:03 and I endured three unnecessary minutes in this uniform."

"Oh, you are off now?," Kat said. "Daria, let's have dinner. This is the one day a week that I ease up on my training regimen a little and I want pizza. Do you know a good pizza joint?"

"Oh, she knows a good pizza place and 'joint' is a good way to describe it," Jodie said.

"Let me get this brain-eating squirrel off me. And I need to tell my sister not to pick me up if she hasn't forgotten about me anyway."

Daria got into her civilian clothes in the small back office bathroom. She called Quinn who told her she was missing Jake's actually quite good coq au vin.

By 6:40 the two young women were ensconced in a booth in the Pizza Prince. The place had not changed except for the clientele, Daria thought. It was now mostly kids who were a year or two or more behind her at Lawndale High. A few of her classmates were there, people she had not known well. All had a look of puzzled nostalgia which she had a feeling she wore as well.

"_Probably not coming back here," _she thought until the pizza came. Kat enthused about its gooey, greasy goodness.

Not much later the two girls were settling back in the booth in a pleasant state of carb-lethargy. Daria was surprised with how quickly she was opening up to Kat. She was fascinated with the stories of epic Daria-Quinn battles and the bribery schemes the sisters had perpetrated on their parents.

"I'm glad you and Quinn are friendlier now," Kat said. "My friends in school complained about the fights they had with their sibs. They said, 'hate her', 'hate him' too many times, I thought. They envied that I was an only child. I never understood. It sounded like fun sometimes the fights and I wanted always to have someone in the house closer to my age. More noise and action than two scholar parents turning pages. And your father sounds like a real hoot."

Kat sucked at her Ultra cola. She looked at the cup, "Wow, keep me away from this stuff. It will ruin my training."

"You will be happy to know it does not come in diet," Daria told her. Then she blurted, "You have a beautiful accent. Oh sorry…" She could feel her face getting red.

Kat only waved a hand slowed by heavy portions of pizza. "No sorry. It is part of who I am: a Central Asian mongrel." She giggled at that and started her story. Kat's mother's mother was a Polish woman named Aldona. Her parents went to Central Asia to better their lot. Aldona married a Mongol man named Batukhan, "Means 'brave ruler' or 'strong ruler', take your pick." It would have been a scandal in Poland or Mongolia but in their frontier town no one cared.

Kat's mother's name was Anka in Polish and Narantsetseg was her Mongolian name. Kat's father, Sasha, was "110% hot-blooded Russian." Sasha had antagonized some mid-level government officials in Moscow. He had thought it best to accept an offer to hide in the boonies for a few years. Sasha and Anka-Narantsetseg married and Ekaterina came along a couple years later.

"So I am," Kat pretended to calculate. "One-quarter Polish, one-quarter Mongol and half Russian. Although Daddy Sasha would make me more Pole or Mongol if he was mad at me or Mom."

"Mongolian name?" Daria asked fascinated.

"Khongordzol."

"That's strong and beautiful. It must mean something?"

Kat leaned close and whispered, "Thistle." Both girls laughed.

"But my story is nothing," Kat declared. "Thousands have stories like that, happy ending or terrible in the old Soviet Union. 'Morgendorffer', now there's a name to conjure by."

"Ha, I wish," Daria said. "It means 'from the morning village' or some such and that's exactly how much more German I know than Mongolian. Both sides have been in America for decades and decades striving to become more boring with each generation. The only faintly interesting thing is I am a direct descendant via Mom of an obscure though competent Civil War general. And he was on the wrong side. Jodie gave me no end of teasing when she somehow found out about that."

Daria even told Kat about Jane, things she had never said even to Jane. How she had thought she was almost losing her mind, that there was really something wrong with her. She wanted to talk to someone except she had no confidence in any of the counselors or psychologists she had ever met. After she met Jane, Daria felt that she was slowly climbing out of some pit with Jane ahead of her stumbling herself sometimes but showing the way.

Kat nodded. "I'd love to meet Jane. I wasn't a loner in school, well not much, but I never, ever had a real, close friend, not in high school or college even." She sighed and sat up. "Oh, I should get home to bed. Training regimen and I have to get to the office really early tomorrow."

They went out to Kat's huge, old dark-blue Detroit sedan, in perfect condition with a 'For Sale' sign in the back window. "Inheritance from an uncle in Poughkeepsie." Kat said.

As they settled onto the long bench seat Daria snickered at Kat's driving posture. "You look like an ape." she told Kat. Both girls laughed.

Kat had the seat almost all the way back and her long limbs were stretched out to steering wheel and pedals. Daria felt even more diminutive than usual on the passenger side. She stretched out her black-booted legs and crossed her ankles as she snuggled down on the massive bench.

"Have enough room over there, short-stuff?" Kat asked. Daria did something very un-Daria like and impulsive; she stuck out her tongue. Kat giggled and sort of leered back.

They drove along in the dark in a comfortable silence, Daria only speaking to give directions. In front of Manse Morgendorffer Kat parked and killed the old purring engine.

"I had a wonderful time tonight," Kat began. "But I blame you for making me want to gorge on Pizza Prince and Ultra Cola. I have to exercise and go to the range tomorrow to get those evil thoughts out of my head."

"I'll teach you the rapid-fire technique," Daria offered. "Of course you don't need it to show up Trent and Jason and any other guy out there."

"Wonderful," Kat slid a little closer, her eyes cement-grey in the dim light. "But I cannot touch a different bow until after my qualifier for the Olympic qualifier. Then you can teach me and I can show you my bow collection. But how about we meet, say, Sunday afternoon at the range? We can practice together, then I can cook you some delicious Russian food, if I can figure out what fits my regimen." Kat slid a little more towards her. "Heh, your hair smells like cashews."

"You smell like pizza grease."

Daria looked at her house, dark except for light in Quinn's room and one dim bulb on in the foyer. She had a odd feeling and was about to get out.

Kat leaned over and kissed her on the lips. The kiss was gentle, questioning and prying. A strong hand slinked behind her head and the other at her side pulled her closer to Kat.

Daria's mind both panicked and went blank. She opened her tight mouth and stuck out her tongue, a gesture immediately returned by Kat's warm tongue. The two wet members wiggled together for a few precious moments. Then she was aware of firmly pushing Kat away.

Kat instantly sprang back to the driver's side.

"Dammit," Kat exclaimed, fist pounding the hard old steering wheel. "Dammit, dammit, dammit."

"Stop, you'll hurt your bow hand," was the only thing Daria could say.

Kat turned worried, almost panicked eyes to Daria. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I always go too fast."

"_Always?_," Daria filed that away for future reference. Then she was not thinking much at all. She took full advantage of the bench's far-back position. She adroitly flipped herself ending up in the taller woman's lap, facing Kat. Daria's legs straddled her. She was aware of being parked on a suburban street, in front of her parent's house with her black skirt riding up but she didn't care. She dipped her head to meet Kat's lips. Neither young woman was wearing a bra and Daria rubbed her stiffening nipples against Kat's.

Kat's hands went to her sides then her back smoothing and caressing Daria. The two stole slow, then quick, then slow kisses. Kat stroked and traveled her hands lower and lower until she was smoothing down Daria's skirt then reaching under her skirt. Kat gave Daria's butt a couple tentative pats and then a big smack and squeeze.

"BLLLLAAARRRP," the old horn sounded as Daria jerked her rear against the steering wheel, not used to someone squeezing her ass. The car gave more loud bleats as the girls struggled in opposing movements but in the mutual goal of getting Daria off Kat's lap.

In classic teen movie fashion the Morgendorffer's bright outside lights came on. Daria finally got off Kat. "I better go in," she said.

It was hard for Kat and Daria to meet each other's eyes but Kat smiled ruefully and said, "I liked it too. That was nice. Too short and too public but really nice."

Daria said nothing, only got out of the big, old sedan and speed-walked to her front door. Kat sped off as soon as she got inside her house. Father Jake was there, a look of concern on his face and a classic martini no olives in hand.

"Are you okay, kiddo?" Jake asked his older daughter. Then he reached out and straightened out Daria's glasses, askew in her thick red hair. She blushed redder than her auburn hair.

"I'm fine, Dad. Thanks for staying up for me."

"Ahh, it's not that late, kiddo." Jake said. "Err...If you ever want to talk…we're here. Mom and me…either one or both. Maybe. Maybe Mom, but me too. Yeah, we're here."

Daria half-smiled, "I know Dad, not right now. Maybe soon though."

Jake looked a bit threatened then relieved and hopeful. "Sure honey, when you're ready."

"I'm a little tired, Dad. I think I'll go to bed."

Jake brightened, "That's my girl! Working hard."

Daria trudged upstairs and down the hall. By Quinn's room she heard suppressed wheezing noises then a snort and outburst of hysterical laughter. "Beep, beep….beeeeep," Quinn said. She was lying on the floor, kicking her legs with laughter. The red ribbon off a present from some worshipful boy was tangling up on her feet.

"Into your room this night I will creep and tie a bright, tight red bow around your neck," Daria predicted deadpan.

"Sorry….wheeze, sorry Daria," Quinn sat up and gasped for air and control. She held her sides. "But that was so funny….beep beep and then Daddy flicks on the lights."

Daria lay on her bed, boots off, and pondered the ceiling. She lit a candle which Quinn had said would purify and sharpen her thoughts. A few minutes later there came a light knock on the door. "Come in, Quinn," Daria called.

Quinn entered eyes red from laughter but composed and serious looking. "Daria, sis, can we talk?"

Daria thought she should send her packing but she allowed, "Yeah, Quinn. That might be good."

Quinn swung around Daria's desk chair and sat. She sighed then started, "I know it's really none of my business…"

"Then don't ask," Daria cut in from force of habit.

Quinn ignored that, "I need to know for your sake and…well…hers. Who is she, Daria? Is she anyone I know?"

Daria sat up. "It…we were that obvious? You saw all that? How?"

Quinn held up an odd looking pair of binoculars. "This was my present from Jaimie…or was it Joey…this morning. A weird present but night-vision goggles came in handy to spy on my sister and some chick making out in a car in front of the house. Sheesh, Daria, get a room or at least go to make-out point or something. These are pretty blurry. I couldn't tell who it was but I could see it was a girl."

Normally Daria did not care much what people thought of her, except for Jane and her parents, Quinn was slowly coming into that exclusive fold but this was too quick. Daria was a private person and at this point she did not know what to think of herself before she crafted what others should think of her.

"Does Dad know? Did he see?"

"He was in the kitchen fooling around with pasta while I was looking at you and lovergirl. He came to the front just a sec before you blew the horn with your butt." Quinn did not suppress her giggles. "He didn't see me spying and I snuck upstairs before you came in. I don't know what he knows or suspects. You know, Mom is a hard-charging lawyer and feelings don't mean too much in that. Dad, remember, is in marketing. It's not any simpler than law, maybe harder 'cause he has to be sensitive to all kinds of people's feelings and preferences and stuff like that. He might know a lot and just be waiting for you to be ready to talk to them."

Quinn, not for the first time, surprised Daria with her perceptiveness. The sisters were silent for a minute then Quinn spoke up, "But you haven't answered me. Is she anyone I know? Please, I need to know."

"No, you don't know her. I promise. I don't think she would care if I told you her name but I don't know so…"

"It's okay, you don't have to tell me anything you don't want to."

"Okay, so then, who did you think she was, Quinn?"

"I can't tell you that," Quinn bit her lip.

"You little rat," Daria exclaimed. "But okay. I have too much to think about already. I don't want to know."

They were silent again until Daria announced, "Quinn, I'm sure those things are fun and all but if you spy on me again I will kick those goggles far, far up your nostrils; you'll be picking your nose for optics for years. Okay, now question time for snoopy, nosy Quinn. Tonight didn't seem to surprise you much. How long have you known…have you suspected…"

"That you're bisexual?" Quinn finished for her.

Daria blanched at the word. She would now have to start thinking of those terms about herself? She didn't much care what people did to or with each other as long as they left her alone but she had never given much thought to herself beyond always feeling that she was straight. Being possibly attracted to girls was at least complicating her life.

"God, Daria, you're so smart but you don't think other people are observant and can figure things out too? I've known something was...umm….different about you since the last year in Highland. But I was really young then and didn't know anything like that until I got to Lawndale and got corrupted by all the gross junk high school girls talk about. But really, do you remember when Brittany Taylor came to school without a bra and in that super-tight sweater? She was trying to make her 'Kevvy' jealous and, of course, it worked 'cause all the guys were gawking at her, the perverts. Anyway, I saw Mac looking at her and licking his lips! My God, boys are pigs. Anyway, I went to tell Sandi and Stacy and Tiffany about it and I turned a corner and there you were, Daria, you and Jane making snarky jokes but you were...you were licking your lips...just like Mac. I mean your eyes bugged out like that slut's nipples."

Quinn paused for a breath, fortunate as Daria was getting more uncomfortable. She was about to object or ask a question or something but Quinn went on. "Okay, exhibit two for Daria digs chicks: you don't like my _Waif_ magazines, do you?"

"Of course not," she responded wondering where Quinn was going. "They're vapid and poorly written and worse they teach girls that image and fashion are the most important things in life and…"

Quinn held up a hand and cut her off, "I know, I know, and twice a year you pick up a certain month's issue for a very Daria-special reaming out. And do you know what's featured in those twice a year issues?"

Daria shook her head afraid now of where Quinn was going. "_Waif_ does a swimsuit review twice a year. You spend a lot of time looking at those particular issues to get enough material to make fun of it and me," she concluded. "Why, I remember how you studied a spread of this blonde with almost no boobs in a tiny blue bikini like you had an algebra final."

Daria buried her head in a pillow. "Oh God, I'm such an idiot."

"Let's talk about boys now," Quinn said relentlessly.

"I know, I know, Tom Sloane," Daria tried to make this quick.

"Forget Mr. Tom Sloane," Quinn waved her hand dismissively. She leaned closer. "I know you 'borrow' and 'use' my old _Playgirls_."

"Eep,"Daria responded as she added another pillow over her head.

"Need I go on? I can if you like."

"No, no, stop. I get the picture or pictures. But why didn't you ever call me on the _Playgirls_? You scream bloody red rum red rum if I use any of your stuff without asking."

"Well," Quinn said sheepishly, looking down and twisting one toe on the carpet. "I'm not proud of the fact myself that I like to look at big...men."

There did not seem much to say after that and the sisters just looked at each other. Quinn finally couldn't take Daria's expression of misery. She sat on the bed and pulled her older sister close. The taller Quinn put her fiery-red tressed head on her sister's auburn.

Quinn softly rocked them both, "It's okay. It's okay, Daria. I love you so much. Mom and Dad love you. You'll figure this out. Just be careful. A lot of bad people out there, boys and girls."

She fell silent but then asked, "Still, I have to ask you, sis. You never really cared what people thought of you and stuff and you never cared if someone was gay or straight or whatever. Why are you so upset when it's you?"

Daria buried her face deeper in her sister's shoulder. She came out for air and answered, "I honestly don't know. I guess it was never me before. I always thought of myself as straight...if I thought much of it at all. Maybe I'm a closet homophobe. And I always thought even if I could not control other people I could control and know myself perfectly. Now you show me I can't even read myself and I'm just an open book to you."

"Like the great Scottish poet Billy Burns said, 'O wad some Pow'r the giftie gie us To see oursels as ithers see us!'" Quinn quoted in a credible Scottish accent.

"That's 'Robbie Burns', lame-o, but very good, Quinn."

Daria lifted her head. "You mentioned this one blonde model. Do you still have that issue? Could you find it?"

"Why sure, I keep all my _Waifs._ We could get another issue and hang framed pictures of Little Miss No-boobs up on your padded walls, big improvement. Or do you need to 'use' that issue to help you fall asleep?"

"I hates you. Hates you forever. No, no, I just have a funny feeling."

"Can I use your computer?" Quinn asked. "I'll check my _Waif_ issue and article index."

"You index your magazines?"

"Sure, don't you? I just need to consult my cloud-account," Quinn said turning to Daria's computer. After a few keystrokes she announced, "Okay, got it. Back in a sec." She went to her room from which Daria heard fossicking noises. She returned with the glossy magazine opened to a photo-shoot of a blonde girl in a skimpy blue bikini.

Daria took the mag and sat up straighter. It was unmistakable, the girl in the picture looked younger than Quinn even, but she was plainly looking at Ekaterina Timofeyeva. She frowned as she checked the issue date. It had been published only about eight months prior.

She turned a page and her heart was pierced. Teen Kat was in a pink high-cut one-piece now and holding a bow like Daria's. Kat's right hand was on an arrow, ready to draw from the hip quiver belted at her side. The whole effect with the swimsuit and Kat standing on a sandy beach looking out to sea was incongruous almost to absurdity, but it was clear the model knew what to do with a bow and arrow.

Quinn was studying Daria and the model as a light-bulb flashed over her head. "Oh my God. It's her. It's her, isn't it? Your lovergirl!"

"Yeah, yeah, it's her," Daria admitted. "But the dates don't make any sense. Kat's got to be at least twenty-one."

"Oh, don't look at the dates too much," Quinn said authoritatively. She took the slick mag. "These shots can lay around for years in some photographer's files until _Waif_ or some other mag buys them. Let's see." Flip, flip. "It credits the model as 'Kay Timmers'. Probably just a modeling name. Is that the name of lovergirl?"

"Stop calling her that!" Daria insisted. "I might as well tell you now. Her name is Ekaterina Timofeyeva and she's an archer too, a very good one. I met her at the range."

Quinn repeated the name appreciatively, pronouncing it perfectly. She cast a critical, professional eye at the layout. "You have really good taste, sis. She's one of their better models. So many of these models look sleepy or drugged or something. Sandi's mom says it's so they don't look like a threat or something to the girls who buy these magazines. Dad says it's also so 'ordinary' girls can better imagine themselves in the clothes. But your Kat looks so active and happy. Those eyes!"

"Yeah, 'good taste', 'my Kat'," Daria sighed and yawned. "God, I've had enough, too much for one night. I need to crash."

"Sure, basta. Good night, sis."

She was almost out the door when Daria asked, "Quinn, could you sleep here tonight?"

Quinn shot her an evil smirk, "Yeah, as long as you promise not to ogle my buns."

For a response Quinn got a pillow in her face. "Eep," she yelled using the pillow in counter-attack.

Jake Morgendorffer paused at the bottom of the stairs. He tuned his ears to the squeals and thumps coming from the second floor. Soon a smile played across his lips. Not long past, the sounds would have been of rage and he would have had to try to stop his battling daughters, or better have Helen make peace. Now Jake raised his eyes and martini glass skyward and mouthed a silent, heart-felt "Thank you." before starting up the steps.

She awoke before Quinn in the morning. She snickered as Quinn smacked her lips and snorted gently in her sleep. She padded out of her room and saw that it was much later than she thought, almost eleven. Scooping nuts all afternoon, strange events of the night, a heart-to-heart with Quinn and then a pillow-fight made for another deep sleep. Jake and Helen had left for the day. Daria was looking forward to the day with no shift at the mall to go to. The morning was shot but she had the rest of the day to read and work on her stories and essays.

She heard the mail drop through the slot. She went to retrieve it scratching her butt through her baggy boy-shorts. _"Where Kat smacked me," _she thought weirdly and guiltily and with a shiver of pleasure.

As expected the mail consisted of bills, junk circulars and the usual catalogs for Quinn. She got to the last envelope, an elegant one like a wedding invitation. "Jason Koenig," she read the return address and indeed it was addressed to her.

She inelegantly opened the squarish envelope and extracted a heavy card with an embossed Chez Pierre logo in their cheesy swirly script and curlicues. With some fanfare the card informed her that one Jason Koenig had reserved a table for the two of them at 7:30 that Friday evening. It requested her to call their number to confirm.

Quinn came down the stars, yawning. "Buon giorno, mia sorella...HEY!"

She lunged at the letter, "Daria! Just because I spied on you gives no right to open my mail."

"Back off, Quinn. This is my letter." Daria held the card above her head, a likely futile tactic as Quinn was two inches taller.

"But that's a Chez Pierre invitation card….oh!" Quinn smiled and stood down. "Wow, lovergirl, I mean Kat, sorry, has good taste too. Oh, Daria, Chez Pierre, so romantic. You'll have to find out what dress she's wearing so you two don't clash. Of course," Quinn put her finger on her cheek in thought. "you'll be the one in the dress and she'll have a tasteful pants-suit on but you still should coordinate."

"Quinn, I have no idea what you're talking about but it's not from Kat. It's from Jason, another archer I met at the range."

"Another archer? I didn't think it was such a hot pickup spot. Hmm, I might have to reconsider and take up the sport. Your bow would go great with my eyes."

"Yep, it's a regular orgyrama in the butts," Daria said drily. Quinn snickered at the funny archery term.

"Well, I can't go anyway," Daria said. "I have to close Nutty Nuts."

"Oh Daria, no, you have to go," Quinn was bouncing from foot to foot with anxiety. "You can trade shifts with somebody: Jodie or Brooke or didn't you say Burnout Girl owes you for when you did double shifts when her mom was sick?"

"Don't call her that. Jenn Penner is not a burnout. And she doesn't owe me anything if she needed help when her mom was recovering. But you're right, I guess I could ask around." Quinn insisted on Daria calling then and there and in the end it was Jenn Penner who switched.

"Wow, I have a busy weekend," Daria mused. "Jason: Friday night over-priced French restaurant; Trent: Saturday night Fellini fest, and Sunday archery with Kat."

"Trent? Another date? Not THE Trent? No? Don't tell me…another archer?!"

Daria nodded gravely as Quinn could only stand there gobsmacked.


	3. Dust-cover Daria

Arrows through Her Heart

_Chapter Three: Dust-cover Daria_

Daria and related characters and situations are the property of Viacom / MTV Networks. This work is strictly for the entertainment of Daria fans and not for any monetary or material gain whatsoever. All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead is purely coincidental.

"_Might as well commit myself to being a slave of fashion from now on and forever_," Daria sighed as she knocked on Quinn's door.

"Come in," her sister commanded. Quinn was intently studying a collection of tiny fancy bottles of undecipherable fluids and making notes in a quad-grid notebook. She wore her most severe pair of glasses, indicating the seriousness of the research.

Daria was intrigued by the graphs and charts Quinn had drawn but she steeled herself and began, "Quinn, I need to ask for your help."

"Uh-hmm," Quinn said absently.

"As you know, I have a date tonight with Jason at Chez Pierre." Daria jumped as Quinn snapped the notebook shut. Quinn instantly became the epitome of alertness.

"Could you help me choose a perfume? That is, I don't have any perfume. Could I borrow some of yours? Well, not borrow, you know, since you can't give perfume back."

"Oh Daria, I've dreamed of the day you would come to me for improvement."

Daria could think of several things to say about Quinn's wish fulfillment but she was scared speechless by the taller girl approaching at a rapid pace with her nostrils flared.

"Good, you showered. And you used that sulfate-free shampoo I've been recommending to you and Mom," Quinn said approvingly. She slowly circled Daria sniffing and sniffing until they were nose to nose.

"If you lick my face, I'll deck you," Daria promised.

Quinn stepped back and stood in thought, finger on cheek. "Don't be silly, sis. I need a strong sense of what a woman naturally smells like on any given day. Now, tell me more about Jason. I know he's an archer…and what else?"

Daria did not know much about Jason, or Trent, or Kat. She had talked with Kat the longest. Kat was an amazing listener who drew out secrets from her without telling anything deep about herself. For Trent, she had Dale's endorsement as a 'great guy.' And about Jason she had only some vague suppositions.

"I think he's an engineer. He designs and builds modern compound bows, I think."

"An active egg-head, okay." Quinn declared. She opened her armoire revealing a shelf of bright boxes and bottles. She considered her trove then announced, "Yes! _Tavoli da disegno_, the perfect scent for you and Jason."

Quinn spritzed a mist into the air. Daria had to admit the smell was alluring: floral with hints of...what? some masculine scents? tobacco? leather? _"I will now lobotomize myself and go to work writing drivel for Waif." _She took the bottle and tried to memorize Quinn's instructions about when, how much and where to apply the stuff.

Quinn followed her to her room, obviously not finished with the improvement project. From her closet Daria chose a short black skirt; green jacket and yellow-shirt, one ensemble from several identical sets hanging there.

"Oh, do you need a new dress? Please Daria, let's go to Cashman's and get a new dress for you. Something light and summery to fit the mood of a romantic summer evening."

"These clothes were loyal friends in high school. I won't turn my back on them now. This outfit helped me make the most of my high school life each and every day."

"But you're going to Chez Pierre. It's your chance to make a good impression on Jason."

"Somehow, Jason has already formed a good impression of me despite any and all attempts of mine to the contrary. If my clothes can contribute to wrecking that impression they will have well served me."

Quinn gave up on the dress front, content, for the time being, to made a small contribution to Daria's fashion formation.

Later that early evening, Daria was just starting _A Journal of the Plague Year _by Defoe when she heard a low, slow rumble on the street outside the house. The rumble stilled and a car door opened and closed quietly. She bolted upright on the living room couch when she heard her father exclaim, "Wow, a Ferrari! Nice car, my man."

A few moments later Jake escorted Jason Koenig into the house and announced, "Daria, your date's here. He's got a real treat for you: a ride in a Ferrari!"

"Excuse my father, Jason." Daria explained standing on tiptoe to give Jason a kiss on the cheek. "He expected his dad to buy him a Ferrari but he got a Tonka toy dump truck instead."

"That's right!" Jake began to Jason's bemused look. "Lousy old man. My daughter has a date with a Ferrari guy!"

"Actually, Mr. Morgendorffer," Jason said, not sure how to respond. "Most chicks…I mean women…couldn't care less about my car."

"Here, Daria," Jason said giving her a wrapped package. "I made this for you."

She unwrapped the present just as Quinn was coming down the stairs.

"Daddy, whose candy-apple red Ferrari is that outside?" Quinn asked. "I want a ride!"

"And this, depending on her mood day to day, is my sister, Quinn Morgendorffer." Daria said making introductions. "And you're right, Jason, she definitely does not belong to the category of 'most chicks'. Mom's on a big litigation trip in the hinterlands. You'll have to marvel over how maladjusted she is some other time. "

Quinn's eyes climbed slowly up the length of Jason until she was looking into his eyes. She smiled and nodded approvingly at Daria as she extended a hand for Jason to shake.

The sisters turned their attention to the present. Daria's eyes widened as she lifted a necklace out of a red-velvet lined box. Quinn gushed, "Oh Daria, that's lovely!"

Daria found words, "It's beautiful, Jason." It merited another tiptoe kiss on the cheek.

Daria held up an intricate necklace comprised of polished, irregularly-shaped, off-white discs. Glistening chunks of lapis, turquoise, and opal set in silver bezels were attached to most of the discs. The discs were held together by lengths of silver chain.

She was about to ask what the discs were made of when Jake cleared up that mystery. "That's a creative use of deer antlers, Jason, my man."

"Did I hear right?" Quinn asked as she fastened the necklace behind Daria's neck. "You made this, Jason?"

"Yep. Trent's not the only craftsman," he winked at Daria.

Quinn got the cool, calculating, business-minded look on her face which Daria was only just becoming at ease with.

"Jason, a friend and I started a jewelry design and sale business. Nothing big—yet—but we're making money. Wait here!" She scampered up the stairs and returned to hand Jason a business card. "The three of us can make beautiful jewelry together. Give us a call and let's talk! "

Jason scanned the card after giving Quinn one of his own. "'Decklerdorffer Designs'?"

"Yes, we wanted a memorable name. But Dad says we should think about changing. What do you think of 'Blumedorffer'?"

"Not enough alliteration," Daria opined. "Think Nutty, Nut, Nut World."

"That's my girls!" Jake exclaimed startling everyone. "Both working hard.

"Jason, I better get you out of here before you run away screaming—not too late to consider it—and I miss a free meal." Daria said heading for the door.

Jason took her hand and walked her to the sleek, low-slung vehicle. He helped her into the bucket seat then folded himself behind the steering wheel.

It was then that he let out an honest laugh and Daria could not help but join in with a few chuckles. "Your dad's a real hoot. I like him a lot already."

"I think Dad has always wanted a Ferrari. Quinn and I agreed to a race. When her jewelry business takes off or I get big royalties from my first best-seller, the winner will be the first one to buy Dad's love with a Ferrari. With much gloating over the loser, of course."

"He'd get his car sooner if you and Quinn combined efforts," Jason suggested. "Did I see a couple pics of him and another guy holding recurves?"

"Yep, that's Dad and his best friend. A client of Dad's, now my nut boss, infected us all with the traditional archery bug last summer. Be careful you don't catch it or you'll break up your wheel bows for parts to fix your car."

"Fat chance," Jason stated. "I should take you all to the range and show you some modern technology."

"'Come to the Dark Side: we have cookies.' Is that how you entice people?"

Jason chuckled. The two enjoyably gave as good as they got until they got to Chez Pierre. Jason helped her out of the low-slung car just as the valet was excitedly jumping behind the wheel. She could see the valet eyeing the open street more than the parking ramp entrance as he experimentally revved the car.

As Daria got out, Jason adjusted the lay of the necklace. "Umm...that's delicious perfume. A great sweet, woodsy scent."

"Delicious?" Daria questioned. "If you lick my face, I'll deck you, buster."

Inside, the French-accented maître d' only occasionally slipped into something sounding like Nebraskan as he guided them to a secluded table. Jason declined his offer of the wine list saying it wasn't fair to imbibe in front of the under-age Daria. He made up for it with Ardesy mineral water for the both of them.

Jason put his hand on hers as she was about to pick up the menu. "I'm going all 1950s on you, Daria, and order for you."

"Okay, but I reserve the right to get a large cheese fries later if you get it wrong." Not since she was a very little girl had anyone ordered for her. She felt strangely pleased although she could not say why. Jason ordered coq au vin for her and beef bourguignon for himself. She didn't tell him about missing her father's rendition of the dish the night she introduced Kat to the Pizza Prince. They ate slowly and fed each other bits of their dishes. She found that she liked coq au vin; she and Quinn would have to help their father make it again at Manse Morgendorffer.

For the second time that week Daria found herself opening up about her family to someone who was a stranger. Unlike Kat, Jason matched her every story with one from his equally quirky family. He had a way of relating what was really a horrid incident into something humorous.

"Your dad is a little over the top," Jason ventured after Daria finished an anecdote concerning Jake.

"Consider this, he's lived for years with two crazy women and me. If he wasn't loud once in a while he'd never get any attention," Daria explained. "Really, my dad's my hero. He's given only the best he could to the two crazy women and me."

"I'd almost trade," Jason related. "Don't get me wrong. I love my dad to no end, but about the most emotional I ever saw him get was when he announced our factory would no longer be making only ball bearings; we would branch out to steel pipe."

"Hey, I get all choked up over a good run of conduit," Daria deadpanned.

Jason, Daria gathered, came from a wealthy family of ball bearing magnates. He adored his older sister and hated his little brother but glossed over any reasons why in either case. The children were given whatever they wanted and more materially, but with the not so implicit expectation that they get only A's in school and would succeed at whatever activity would show the superiority of the Koenig bloodline. Unlike the histrionics of Daria's experience, the Koenigs were incredibly repressed and expressionless emotionally. For Jason the only outlets for fun were his sister, Janelle, and his ne'er do well uncle who introduced Jason to hunting, fishing, trapping and archery.

Jason, as elder son, was expected to take over the ball bearing/steel pipe concern. By the time he was out of college with an industrial engineering/materials science double major, Jason had decided that ball bearings were not the way he rolled. He dreaded telling his father that he wanted to make compound bows and archery tackle. Pater Koenig broke his legendary self-control and threatened Jason with the customary threat to rich kids: cut out of the will and family fortune.

"Watching him come unglued was actually more fascinating and gratifying than scary," Jason confessed.

His father attempted another tack and bribed Jason with the very Ferrari which had borne them to Chez Pierre. Jason confessed that he was a bit ashamed to take the bribe and go into archery anyway. "But I drive it happily, so not that ashamed." The two chuckled guiltily; Daria recalled all the cabin fund money she extorted from Quinn or guilted out of her parents.

The two ate dinner leisurely and took dessert and coffee on the patio, watching the sun go down and talking until it seemed a change of scenery was in order. Daria declined his offer of a cheese fries night cap as they walked out the door. She noted that the Ferrari's hood seemed a bit warm despite having been parked for a couple hours. "Hope you had fun with it, my man," Jason said as he tossed a big tip to the valet.

"Why, Mr. Koenig," Daria asked when Jason suggested going back to his apartment. "Are you luring me to your bachelor pad to look at your etchings?"

"Something even more insidious," Jason admitted. "A bottle of good champagne."

Jason drove to a gentrified neighborhood off Dega Street, a strip of offices and warehouses recently converted to trendy lofts. Daria snuggled into his side on the elevator ride up from the underground garage.

True to his word, he brought out an ice bucket, two champagne flutes and a frosty bottle. Daria watched with interest as he carefully twisted the wire cage contraption off the bottle. He carefully, gingerly worked at the cork until it came out without a sound.

"Hey," she said a little disappointed. "No big pop and gush?"

"A big pop is tres gauche, my dear," he explained. "More importantly, a loud pop wastes the bubbles. More bubbles means a faster trip to a beautiful woman's head."

He carefully poured her a full flute. She felt the bubbles play on her tongue and nose as she took her first ever sip of champagne.

"That's, that's indescribable," she said. "But really good."

"It's fun to watch you and your first champagne, but hey, slow down a bit, savor, enjoy, there's plenty," he directed as she nearly drank the flute dry. "I can't believe I said that; I mean, here, let me fill that up again."

Daria slowed her intake. She discovered that sipping slowly made the bubbly beverage even tastier.

Halfway through her second flute Daria got a glistening droplet of champagne on the tip of her nose. Without thinking she flicked her tongue out and up and licked the droplet.

"Eep," she exclaimed, face reddening as Jason stared.

"Oh my God! I thought Janelle was the only person in the universe who could do that."

"I will now have to kill you to keep you quiet," Daria deadpanned.

"Don't worry," he assured her. "Your secret's safe with me. Whenever we would tease Janelle she beat the snot out of us."

"Quinn used to call me 'Froggy Fly-catcher.' And I did wail on her," Daria confessed. "Then we got older and she basically decided to ignore me more than tease me."

That sobered them but only briefly. Daria took another sip then and regarded her glass. "Gee, this is magical stuff. Yummy and I really haven't had that much but I feel warm and bubbly. Do you have any photo albums of dead things to chase this feeling away?"

"It got you to show me your super power. Your ability has certain possibilities, if not of the crime-fighting variety." That earned Jason a sock on the arm.

"The only other person outside the family who has seen me do that is Jane, after a solemn oath of silence signed in her blood," Daria went on. "It broke her creative dry spell. She called it The Tongue that Launched a Thousand Canvasses."

"I'd love to meet your Jane," Jason said. "Maybe in another couple weeks when she's back from Europe?" Daria nodded, missing Jane but intent just then on enjoying her champagne.

Daria finished her second flute then put her glass down. "Good as it is, I've had enough."

"Yeah, me too," Jason said and she noted the sincerity. "Even in college I never could understand how people wanted to drink themselves blotto, upchuck and pass out. I think they mostly wanted to brag and tell stories the next day while heroically suffering through a miserable hangover."

Daria had put into practice some advice from Raft orientation sessions. She had carefully kept track of just how much Jason had imbibed: a touch more than she.

The conversation lagged as she looked up into his blue eyes. He took a control from somewhere and dimmed the lights. The two moved closer on Jason's love seat. Daria opened her mouth a bit as Jason dipped his head. They kissed experimentally at first then firmer.

"I think one more sip," Jason said taking a small slurp into his mouth and moving in again. Daria knew what might be coming but she opened her mouth and without a spilled drop accepted the warm, fizzing wine from his mouth.

"That's gross," she said simply with a tiny smile. Jason noted to himself it was about the first smile from her all evening.

"From you, I think that means 'Do it again'." And he did.

Jason took her hand. Without a word from either one, he led her into his bedroom. He lit a couple beeswax tapers and put a CD on the stereo. Slow, soft rock wound around the room and the two danced close. The music and lyrics were corny, thought Daria, but oddly compelling.

"The band is Bread," Jason saw fit to explain. "Pretty much unknown nowadays and you can probably tell why. They're really, really sappy but Janelle always said this was superior make-out music."

"You'll never be a boxer if you keep telegraphing your moves, buster," she told him.

She reached her hands up onto his shoulders and around his neck. He hunkered down a bit to hold her around the waist as they slowly waltzed and swayed. She murmured approval as he worked his hands lower until he was feeling her hips move as they danced. At the beginning of a new song he moved his hands fully over her rear and began massaging her butt. It felt as tingly as the champagne on her tongue. Daria nuzzled his neck.

"God, Daria," Jason told her as he cupped her ass. "This skirt is such a turn-on. It's like your parents buy you a new Ferrari for your birthday and they put a dust-cover over it. You know what's under the cover but you want to see it so badly and you know it's built for high-performance."

Daria deadpanned, "Hey, you don't know what's under there. I'm really a guy, but it is definitely high-performance."

Jason's answer was to pick her up. As she wrapped her arms around his neck, he carried her to the bed and sat. There was plenty of lap for her to snuggle into and chest to cuddle. God, she missed being held by a man. Jason was older, taller, stronger than Tom. She berated herself a bit for being excited by those differences.

"Don't think so damn much," she told herself. "Let it go and enjoy." She lifted her lips to his to be kissed, gradually opening her mouth and darting out her long, glistening tongue. Big hands were stroking and squeezing her ass. After they broke from one long kiss, Jason stirred and lifted her, setting Daria down in a slightly different position.

"What's the matter, buster? You need to adjust yourself?"

Again he answered her with movement. Jason easily turned her until her butt was pressed against his crotch. Daria felt his hardness between her cheeks as her legs straddled him. She scrambled her legs on the floor causing him to moan and become even harder. He nuzzled Daria's neck and whispered in her ear, "Daria. Daria. You make me so fucking hard."

Big hands stroked under her blazer and over her breasts. "Oh," she groaned as her nipples stiffened. He gently pinched and jiggled her engorged nipples between his fingers. Jason caressed her belly under her shirt.

She shivered as Jason's right hand brushed her crotch over her panties. He gave her a couple firm, pressing strokes on her covered sex, forcing the fabric between her lips. He squeezed possessively causing her to open her legs a bit more. Daria moaned. His left hand grasped one leg firmly, gently and he opened her even wider.

She was embarrassed and her bashfulness made her even more excited. She was sitting backwards on a virtual stranger's lap, her skirt up and legs spread wide, her own legendary self-control being brushed aside as he brushed and stroked her covered, wet sex. Daria's thick auburn hair fall around his face as she turned her face up and moaned.

The exploratory right hand pushed and dug now, encroaching under the elastic of her bikini panties. Daria wrapped her fingers as far as she could around his thick wrist and pulled up. "No," she said.

The hand lifted immediately. Jason sat up straighter and looked at her quizzically. He shifted their positions moving Daria to a chaste lap sitting position. They went back to slow, deep, gentle kissing. It was fun but…

He took her home relatively early. Jake stood on the step and waved good-bye to the Ferrari and Jason as Daria started up the stairs. She muttered thanks as he happily wished her sweet dreams.

Ignoring Quinn's innocent curiosity, she went to her room. She lit another candle her thoughtful, if superstitious, sister had left for her; took off her boots and socks; put her glasses in their hard case, then lay supine, head over the foot of her bed. Daria stretched out her arms after running fingers through her hair. She enjoyed the feeling of her hair pulling her head down.

She half-expected to hear Quinn's soft knock. She would not have turned her sister away, but Daria was glad she was alone to think.

What had just happened? More importantly how did she feel about it? "No" had meant no. She had said and meant "No" then and she meant it now. And Jason had immediately done the right thing: he removed his hand.

Daria flipped over on her tummy. She put her chin on crossed arms and contemplated the floor, thick hair falling around her face.

Did she want him to keep going? To try again? No.

She considered that Jason and Tom Sloane were probably quite a bit alike: spoiled by their family circumstances and upbringing. Both men expected good things to happen to them and other people to do good things for them. If some good thing did not happen they would just sit back and let the next equally good, if not better, thing come to them. Tom was somewhat aware of this and tried to change, usually in a lackadaisical manner, nevertheless, Tom tried to change. Jason, she was not sure of.

Was she not desirable enough? She shivered as she remembered his hands all over her, feeling up her breasts and spreading her legs. No, she was sure he had wanted her and wanted her very much indeed.

Even so, Jason had acted like he looked for a piece of gum and found his pack was empty. Nothing special, really. Minor inconvenience. So, had she wanted him to be more disappointed?

Daria prepared for bed. She wadded up her now dry panties and made a three-pointer into the laundry basket. She sniffed lingering _Tavoli da disegno_ and Jason's classic Old Spice on her clothes and those were next. When she got into bed in her comfy sleeping togs, she immediately fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.


	4. Short-sheeted Daria

Arrows through Her Heart

_Chapter Four: Short-sheeted Daria_

Daria and related characters and situations are the property of Viacom / MTV Networks. This work is strictly for the entertainment of Daria fans and not for any monetary or material gain whatsoever. All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Daria woke refreshed that Saturday. She worked a long shift as a nut-tender, arriving home in mid-afternoon to ready herself for Fellini Fest and whatever Trent may bring her way.

Quinn questioned Daria for details and impressions of Trent. Then Daria endured Quinn's sniff test without comment and Quinn came through with another perfume. She spritzed her wrist and stuck it under Daria's nose.

"Am I supposed to take a bite?"

Daria might rarely admit it out loud but Quinn had discerning good taste. The scent for Trent, Quinn had decided, was predominantly herbal with not-so-subtle notes of musk. It was both feminine and at the same time reminded her of Trent.

"Thanks, Quinn. I really like this scent."

"I think this could be your signature fragrance, Daria. Fresh, restrained, cultivated like a garden but scratch the surface and you get wild exuberance!"

"I can go with the 'wild' but I always saw myself as less exuberant and more like a feral cat sleeping in the sun."

Daria chose a clean set of green jacket, short black skirt and mustard-yellow tee. Quinn sighed and rolled her eyes but did not object.

"After I wash the cashew stench from my hair you can spray that all over me if you want."

Quinn nodded gravely. "Daria, I heard you tossing around in bed last night. You don't have to tell me anything, of course, but if you ever want to talk about Jason, or Trent or Kat…"

"I know, Quinn. Not right now…probably soon. But don't you need to get ready for your dates?"

Quinn's eyes widened in near panic. She raced off to her room as Daria headed for a shower.

Daria was sitting on the couch continuing with Defoe when she heard a throaty rumble roll up in front of the house. "Eap," she suddenly remembered that her father was puttering in the front yard. She jumped up to intercept Trent before Jake could get to him, but it was too late; she could hear two male voices approach the front door. The men stopped outside the door a few moments in discussion.

Jake threw the door open. "And we had a fleet of those Volkswagen vans at the commune. Wow, that takes me back. I helped with the maintenance." He ushered a bemused looking Trent into the foyer.

"Daria! Trent's here," Jake loudly called up the stairs before seeing that she was only a few feet away.

"Hi, Trent," she said, giving him a short hug and cheek smooch.

Trent held her gently at arm's length. "You're beautiful, Daria. Just perfect for supper and Fellini," he announced. "And here, before we go!" He gave her a bundle wrapped with study but soft white paper. "Careful now. Open it on a table."

She found a dozen wooden arrows. "They're beautiful, Trent." Daria held one up for Jake to admire. She ran a finger over the white and black striped feather-fletching. No primitive flint broadheads, but steel field points finished the business ends of the slender shafts.

"Look, Daria. Trent painted on bands to match your clothes," Jake pointed out.

Near the fletching on each shaft were bands of green, black and dusky gold. Daria remembered that on the range she had worn a green sleeveless vest, dull yellow tee-shirt and black jeans.

"And, really, these are the colors of your eyes, Daria." Trent said. "Dark green with black and gold flecks."

Quinn came down in a blue dress and hair done up high. She craned her neck to look into Trent's eyes.

"And this, Trent," Daria started. "Is my kid sister, Quinn. That is if she wants to admit to being my sister today."

"_Piacere_," Quinn held out her hand delicately.

Trent smiled and shook with his long fingers. "_Enchanté de vous rencontrer, mademoiselle._"

"You forgot to kiss her hand. You know, if you two want, we can stay here all night and conjugate Romanian verbs," Daria offered.

"That doesn't sound like fun," Jake objected.

"No, you're right, Daria." Trent said. "Let's go. Let's have a leisurely supper before Fellini-fest."

"Oh, oh, Fellini!" Quinn enthused. "Take me with you, you guys some time, please, it'll be so good for my Italian."

"Bye kids, have fun." Jake called.

"Thanks, Mr. Morgendorffer," Trent answered.

"Jake, please, my man. Say Trent: Dale, Anthony and I, we'd love to have you go squirrel hunting with us in Kentucky this fall. I found some super recipes for squirrel brains."

"That sounds great, Jake. But I think you might want to do a little research on Creutzfeldt-Jakob Disease before you plan your burgoo."

He opened the door of his high van for her. Daria had the feeling he was looking at her butt as she climbed in. She should have been incensed and mortified, but tonight, oddly enough, she was only flattered.

"Sorry, we have to take the Tank," he apologized. "The Toyota's in the shop for recall work."

"The Tank?" Daria asked.

"Yeah, my dad gave her to me for three-hundred bucks. Doesn't look like much but she runs fine. You know I get the feeling you think you know me from somewhere. Or I remind you of someone. An old flame?"

"Can you read minds?" Daria asked. "Okay, you caught me, buddy. I was interested years ago in someone named Trent but I wouldn't call it an 'old flame', more like a strangled, slowly-squelched smoulder. He drove an old beater van called the Tank but it belonged to a friend. He even sort of looked like you." She blushed.

"What a handsome fellow." Trent approved. "Well, I hope you have fond memories of this Trent Mark One."

"Better than good, Trent Two." Daria teased. "Trent is my best friend's brother. He loves Jane more than anything and that makes him like a brother to me too. You would have a lot to live up to."

"Ah, a challenge," Trent said. "Good, I needed a new one to conquer."

"Organic vegan," Daria said skeptically as she read the offerings on the menu. They were seated in a booth at the _Good Luck Beans_ restaurant a block off Dega Street. "If this doesn't work out, buddy, you owe me a pizza with double-pepperoni after Fellini."

"We can do the pizza anyway," Trent offered. "I have some sourdough at home for a great crust and organic pepperoni."

"Yes, there really is such a thing," he said forestalling Daria's objections. "This place is owned by some old friends. I lent them a bit to start it up last year and like to throw them some patronage once in a while. I can't eat this all the time, believe me, but I thought you might like something a little different. Try the Buddha's Bowl veggies and the braised cold Brussel sprouts with hot sauce and tofu."

Trent laughed heartily as Daria groped for the sparkling mineral water after her first mouthful of Brussel sprouts in hot sauce. "I'll get you for that," Daria promised. "Expect ground glass in your popcorn."

Trent stifled his laugh and looked at her curiously. "I know that's a joke but you really say the damnedest things, Daria. I don't know you very well yet but coming from you I think I can take it. From anyone else though…"

She blushed and looked down at her plate. "_This isn't high school_," she reminded herself. "_Jane appreciates my remarks but people at Raft even told me I should tone it down. Wow, how did I come to caring about that?_"

A moment later she and Trent were both laughing as Trent fanned his mouth and fumbled for his beer. "Oh, they made it HOT tonight," Trent gasped.

After dinner they walked slowly hand in hand the few blocks to the Orpheum. It was early in Fellini fest and they took in a showing of _Luci del varietà. _

As they were walking back to the Tank Daria was grateful that Trent held her close in the cold night air. The movie got them into a discussion of free will. Daria almost automatically and dogmatically held a rigidly deterministic view that the universe, if there were consistent physical laws at all, would not permit free will. Trent held a loose, easy-peasy-in Daria's opinion-view that commons sense should prevail. There was no reason for the universe to allow people to feel they had free will but clearly most people believed so and acted as if they were free agents; therefore that feeling and belief was strong evidence for it.

Before they knew it that conversation brought them to Trent's apartment building, a modern seven-story glass and steel edifice.

"I thought you'd be living in a yurt," Daria kidded him.

"Ah, I rented the yurt out to a family of wandering Mongols." Trent said as they rode the elevator.

He nuzzled her as they rode. "Your perfume, wow, it's so controlled but wild. Reminds of a big puma I once saw sleeping in the sun high in the Rockies."

"Let me fix us a little drink," Trent offered. He took a bottle of tawny liquor off a high shelf in his kitchen. That was followed by two half-pint Mason jars, to Daria's amusement.

Trent laughed too. "Some things are best enjoyed the old mountain way. This is the best rye whisky in America. Rye, along with bourbon, is the quintessential American tipple."

"Aren't you going to shoot it down straight like a real man," Daria teased as she watched him pour an equal portion of cold water into the rye whisky in the two fruit jars.

"Straight up is tres gauche, my dear," he informed her as he gave her a jar. "And too strong a concentration of alcohol kills taste buds. Sip, enjoy, feel it."

Rye fumes engulfed her nose like a warm blanket as Daria raised her jar for a first sip. She closed her eyes as the rich, slightly spicy liquid coated her tongue and slid warmly down to her belly. The tiniest smile possible played across her lips. Trent watched, laughed happily and took a sip himself.

"Hey," he said glancing at the clock. "Do you mind if we watch Sick, Sad World in fifteen? I know it's a really stupid fake news show but my sister and I message each other about it and I missed the first airing of tonight's rerun."

"Why Mr. Lockher," Daria began in mock offended tones. "Organic vegan hot sauce, Fellini, whisky and now trashy TV. You really know how to turn a maiden's head."

Daria inhaled a subtle scent of tar. It reminded her of third grade. They were doing a science unit on the senses and Mrs. Bernstein asked the class to share their favorite smells. Kids recited the usual scents: peppermint, lemon, lilacs. Daria quite sincerely said, "tar" to the instant hilarity of the class. To Daria's instant gratitude Mrs. Bernstein shushed the class. She then gently and firmly explained to Daria that it was okay to like what she liked but that some tars had bad, dangerous things in them and she should not inhale too deeply or for very long.

She looked around and saw a wall arrangement of a long bow and arrows like those Trent had tested at the range. The arrows were certainly the source of the smell. She told Trent her third grade story.

He nodded and related, "I had about the same experience in fourth grade only I said, 'dirt'. You can imagine the nicknames that generated. You'll have to visit my workshop and I can show you how to cook birch bark down for tar. You can have fun chewing sinew too. I could use a new set of jaws some days."

She stood on tiptoe and nipped his ear lobe. "Enough jaw action for you?"

Trent guided her to the couch.

"Are left-handers plotting to take over the world? Extreme lefties liberation next on Sick, Sad World."

Trent raised his jar of rye and water in his left hand and said, "It's about time. I'll drink to that." He looked down for a response and noticed that the girl snuggled on his right side was fast asleep. Daria had succumbed to a bit of whisky, a full tummy and a long shift scooping nuts. Her glasses askew, she was dozing contentedly over his arm.

"_My God, she's beautiful,"_ he thought. _"I don't think she even knows it. And she almost never smiles; I'd love to put a big, wide grin on her face."_

He reached down and tried to delicately adjust the uncomfortable-looking position of her glasses. Daria stirred and blinked her eyes.

"Oh, sorry," she apologized. "I fell asleep as they were exposing toads and frogs interbreeding for a master amphibian race. All day bagging filberts and sucking in cashew fumes wore me out. No reflection on the company."

"That's okay," Trent allowed. "I'm sorry to wake you. You look so fine sleeping, Daria. I could have watched you all night. Except...my arm's falling asleep."

She sat up obligingly to let him flex his right arm. Daria picked up her fruit jar and took a sip of her rye and water. So good, just as good as champagne but so different, she thought as it spread like a warm blanket coating her insides.

She looked up at Trent and got a perverse idea. "Sit back," Daria pushed him with one hand. He looked at her speculatively but leaned back on the couch. She smirked and commanded, "Open your mouth, buddy."

As he did she filled her mouth with the smooth mixture then leaned over him. As their lips formed a seal, she emptied the rye into his mouth. His hands came around her as he swallowed.

He lay back and drew Daria on top of him. As they broke from a kiss her glasses slipped down and bonked him lightly on the nose. He took the glasses fully off her face and used his long arm to put them carefully on a side table.

One hand around her auburn-tressed head drew her down again. Before contact she paused, "No means no, right?" she asked. She almost regretted the question as his eyes registered mild shock.

"Yeah, of course, no means no." Trent promised.

Kissing resumed and to Daria it seemed something was suddenly missing. She wanted to get it back and hardly thinking she unleashed a trick which would have been unthinkable just a day before. Daria slowly slipped her tongue out to lick her nose.

Once again his eyes registered surprise. He drew her in again and gave her nose a small bite. Daria sank lower on him in pleasure and resumed kissing with extra tongue extension on Daria's part.

Still Daria was never one to do things half-way. To make sure Trent got a clear message she stood hardly believing what she had just decided to do. Daria slowly raised the hem of her skirt with both hands showing Trent her white bikini panties. She smiled a tentative, tiny bit even as she could feel her face flush. "Please, Trent, quick do something before I die of embarrassment."

Trent arose and regarded her with a mixture of appreciation and surprise. Trent gently took a hand in each of his. He raised her hands to his lips to kiss her fingers, then he put her hands on his shoulders. His hands slipped around her waist and drew her in for kisses. Daria thought it looked ridiculous in the movies but she found herself bringing one foot up as she leaned into him. She stood on tiptoe as they sucked each other's tongues. She could feel him stiffen in surprise, then suck harder as her long tongue slipped further and further into his mouth.

"I'm happy you're embarrassed," he said simply. "It means you value yourself; you don't just throw it out there. It means you value me too."

They came together for more deep kisses. His hands went lower until he was cupping her butt, long fingers around her cheeks over her skirt. She buried her face in his arm for a moment then looked up.

"God, Trent. Trent, play with my ass." She was sure he was laughing at her as she mouthed nonsense and yielded to him. "Trent, please, move me. Handle me."

He smiled a little fiendishly. "I'm going to unwrap you like a Christmas present, Daria Morgendorffer. But slowly, lovingly, a little at a time."

Trent scooped her up and carried her into his bedroom. He laid her belly-down on his bed. A gentle but firm hand wrapped itself in her hair and kept her from looking back.

"God, Daria, your skirt drives me wild," Trent said. "It's like Rodin put a sheet over a new sculpture before unveiling. Nobody knows what it looks like but everyone knows it is a masterpiece."

Trent flipped up the hem of her skirt. She stirred, unused to being under such scrutiny, a little afraid but too excited to stop him. His sharp intake of breath indicated he was enjoying the slow process of unveiling her.

He ran his hands firmly over her white, bikini panties. He lightly smacked her butt a couple times then hooked his thumbs under the elastic on either side of her hips.

"_What now and how much further?_" she thought. Daria knew that she could decide that.

"Eep," Daia whimpered as he suddenly pulled her panties down around her knees. "_Half-naked_," she thought. "_Only the second time I've been half-naked with a man_." Daria had always thought that the phrase 'half-naked' sounded both silly and arousing.

Kat, Jason and now Trent all seemed to have an particular, keen interest in what she had always thought of as her flat, little rear. Tom Sloane was decidedly a breast aficionado. She remembered how excited he had been when he finally coaxed her out of her jacket, her tee shirt and her black sports bra. She had sat on his lap in her skirt and white sox at first demurely hiding her boobs with her hands. Tom had enjoyed teasing and cajoling her to drop her hands to let him look at and fondle and kiss her smallish, firm breasts.

Now she heard Trent breathing heavily behind her. She turned her head to see him intent on the sight before him. He began to loosen his belt.

A door at the end of the hallway banged open. "Fire, Fire! Everyone out!" a man yelled as he moved from door to door knocking and yelling. The strobe light on the bedroom ceiling flashed as the building alarm began to blare.

"Dammit, dammit," Trent cursed. He pulled up Daria's panties then buckled his belt. She stumbled semi-blindly out of the bedroom. Daria miraculously found her glasses and purse on the side table as Trent put her boots and socks in her hands.

"No time," he said urgently as she started to put on her socks. "Let's get out of here." He scooped up Daria, her boots, socks and purse as he started for the door.

"What's there to burn in a building like this?" she asked as she opened the front door for them. "Besides us, I mean."

"Not much," Trent said. "But what can burn emits nasty, toxic fumes."

"Let's get out of here," she said with more urgency. They joined a small exodus of men and women and a few children heading for the stairway. Trent yelled at a couple of people at the elevator to use the stairs.

Without wavering he carried her down five flights of stairs. At each landing they were joined by more people. On the second floor a heavy, burnt smell encouraged everyone to move a little quicker. An older man in white tee and black fleece lounge pants emblazoned with Grateful Dead bears held open the ground floor door as people streamed out.

"Trent." "Dave." The two men acknowledged each other as Trent carried her through the door.

Trent set Daria down on a plastic-boarded picnic table away from the door and only then began to pant a bit with exertion. Daria put on her socks and boots as sirens and flashing lights approached. A few yard lights illuminated the picnic tables around which people gathered.

A Hispanic woman with long, jet-black hair approached with two girls who looked to be about seven and identical twins. The girls wore long nightgowns which seemed inadequate for the outdoors during the unusually cool summer and that especially nippy late evening.

"What happened, Mia?" Trent asked her.

"Dave says Mrs. Hanson worked double shifts again. She fell asleep with pork chops hot on the stove. Just a bad grease fire, it looks like."

"Nobody hurt?" Trent asked. "Great."

"Nobody's hurt," Mia confirmed. "We better talk to the fire chief though; Tim's already over there." She gestured towards a tall, middle-aged black man talking to a woman in full firefighting togs.

Trent turned to Daria. "The place is a co-op," he explained. "I'm on the board with Mia, Dave and Tim."

Daria nodded. "Ma'am," she addressed Mia. "You can leave your girls with me. Come on girls, let's snuggle and keep each other warm."

The girls looked at their mother who nodded assent and smiled thanks at Daria.

"Come on girls," Daria invited again. "I'll tell you about how my Daddy almost burned down our house while your mom takes care of business."

The girls cuddled one on either side as Daria put her arms around them. She was as welcome for the warmth as they were. Door-man Dave came walking over with a pronounced limp. He had a large bright red blanket draped over his shoulders. Upon seeing the three shivering girls, he wrapped his blanket around them closely. He stepped back a pace and smiled slightly as he studied the scene.

Trent could not help but grin at the homey, cozy sight. Daria stuck out her tongue at him. The twins giggled and squirmed and followed suit.

Daria and the twins were almost napping in their comfortable blanket nest when Trent and Mia returned ten minutes later. Mia collected her sleepy, yawning girls leaving Daria with the blanket.

"Sorry, we still have to meet in Mia's place about insurance and cleanup and such," Trent apologized. "I have to get you home quick and come right back."

Daria nodded and stood up on the picnic table seat. She relished her childlike delight at finally being taller than someone as Trent looked up at her. She cupped his face in her hands and leaned over for a deep kiss. The girls giggled and pointed as Mia shushed them and hurried them off. She hopped off the picnic table just as Dave came limping up.

"You know, my daughter, Jenny, can take you home, miss," he offered as a smiling, round-faced middle-aged woman with him nodded at Daria.

"Sure, I need to get back to the family in Le Grand Hotel," Jenny said. She gave Dave a hug. "See you tomorrow, Dad."

Dave waved it away as Daria attempted to give him the blanket. Daria found herself exhausted and was happy that Jenny proved more than up to chatting away by herself as they drove along. Daria only had to chip in with directions until they pulled up in front of Manse Morgendorffer and she thanked Jenny for the ride.

She made it up to her room followed by a curious Quinn. Quinn's supernose began sniffing around Daria.

"Ewww, you smell like burnt popcorn, Daria. Did the Orpheum burn down?"

"It's Trent's signature scent, _Eau de Maiale Inferno_. It rubbed off on me as we fought about Fellini. I got him in my infamous Lawndale Pain Pinch and pinned him to the pavement until he conceded my point."

Quinn shook her head. "Oh come on. I haven't had a really good date in two weeks. Please, Daria, just tell me some of the juicy details."

To her surprise, Daria found herself prone on her bed telling an interested Quinn most everything that happened, sparing the panties around the knees and assorted other steamy moments.

Quinn laughed at the fire alarm story but shook her head in commiseration too. "Daria, are you sure you didn't hit the alarm with your butt? Sis, you must have the worst make-out luck ever."

Quinn got serious then, "Daria, you know, in the Fashion Club we always laid down the law: no hugging or kissing or slow dancing or close dancing or hand holding or...eh, there's more but I can't remember it all...until the fifth date. That was mostly to promote our popularity and make us even more desirable but it also protected us too. The Unwritten Bylaws and Code of the Fashion Club made us think carefully about how far, how fast to go and any guy that stuck around for five dates before he...ah...got anything was certainly serious about us. I don't know...you never told me what happened with Jason but I bet Jason 'got a little off you' too."

Quinn paused and Daria was not certain whether to feel umbrage or gratitude for Quinn's concern. She went with both, "Not that it's any of snoopy little sister's business but, yeah, if you must know, we made out. It didn't go far...I didn't let it. What's it to you?"

For Daria to confide anything to Quinn was a major change over the years spent trying to ignore each other and they were both getting used to their new relationship. She brushed off Daria's words and tone and continued. "Sis, I know you can take care of yourself but I'm just saying be careful. You're just not used to this. Three dates in one weekend. That's nowhere near the Fashion Club all time record of fifteen dates in two days-held by Tiffany-but for you that's a feast after a long famine. Let's see three dates...that's a three-hundred percent increase over last year."

Quinn got an evil smirk, "But you said you had zero dates last year at Raft so three times zero is still zero, right?" She dodged a pillow which Daria had spent some time calculating the trajectory of.

Quinn got down on the floor and took Daria's hand. "Seriously, sis, I'm so happy you have guys...and girls! finally appreciating you. So! Date number three with Kat. At least with her I don't have to worry about you getting preggers."

Pillow number two found its mark. The two girls smacked each other with the soft objects until each was satisfied that she was the winner. Daria was thoroughly wrung out at the end and yawned mightily.

"Quinn, can I sleep in your room tonight? I'm not scared of pink anymore."

"Sure, sis! And bright and early tomorrow you can help me chart the viscosity and stuff of different mascaras in different temperatures." Daria winced in anticipation but did not protest. The two spent a long, peaceful night sleeping in Quinn's pink bedroom.


	5. It's Curtains for You, Mogendorffer

Arrows Through Her Heart

_Chapter Five: It's Curtains for you, Morgendorffer_

Daria and related characters and situations are the property of Viacom / MTV Networks. This work is strictly for the entertainment of Daria fans and not for any monetary or material gain whatsoever. All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

"Oh, for cute!" Daria heard Quinn exclaim. She found Quinn at the breakfast table looking at the front page of Lawndale's scandal sheet newspaper, double-sized for Sunday.

"Did they dress a puppy up in Donna Karan?" she asked sitting down.

She gave her dad a half-smile of thanks as he placed a steaming bowl of stone-cut oatmeal in front of her. Daria began to load it with raisins and caramelized pecans, multitasking by simultaneously filling a plate with bacon and fruit and putting sugar in her coffee.

Quinn smiled slyly and turned the paper around for Daria to see. Across four columns of the front page and above the fold was a full-color pic of green-jacketed Daria and the twins in their yellow night gowns peering out of the red blanket.

Her mouth fell open as Quinn pushed it closer for her to read the rather non-descript caption: something about three friends safe and warm from an inferno on a cold evening.

"Curse the summer's slow news cycle," was the only thing she could think of saying. With the fire trucks flashing their lights and other vehicles coming and going during the great pork chop inferno, Daria was not surprised that she had not noticed someone flashing a camera at the trio. She rather suspected Dave to have had a hand in it, however. She had to admit when she looked with a journalistic eye: the pic had good composition, rather well done all around in fact.

"You all look so cute," Quinn enthused. "Like three baby birds waiting for mommy-bird to return to the nest with fat, juicy worms."

Quinn reconsidered, "Worms? Ewww."

"I ordered five more newspapers and an 8x10 print," Jake said proudly. "Too bad they didn't mention you by name, kiddo."

"Fifty bucks kept my name out of the paper," Daria replied.

"Oh, that's too bad!" Jake said cluelessly. "Maybe next time."

"If that's what's coming next time, I'm walking into the fire," Daria predicted.

Later that morning Daria once again entrusted her scent to Quinn's expert mercies. Quinn stood with finger on her cheek and expression of puzzled concentration playing across her cute face. She had already given Daria the all-around sniff test which Daria was almost used to. Daria had also patiently gone over once again what she knew about Kat.

"Okay, I'm stumped...don't tell Sandi," Quinn said at last. "I don't know what perfume for a girl like you to attract a woman like Kat. I mean I don't know to go with floral, herbal, citrusy, spicy, leathery, tobaccoy or..."

"Hey, LITTLE sister," Daria started chagrined and anxious to prevent Quinn from listing thousands of possible scents. "I am nineteen, you know. I can vote. That's a woman for you."

Quinn waved that aside, more important things on her mind. "Maybe we should just douse you with Daddy's Old Spice?"

That was too absurd for Daria to even think of an objection.

Quinn brightened, "I know!" She rushed from Daria's room. Daria heard fossicking noises as Quinn moved about the upstairs rooms.

Quinn returned while slowly shaking a tightly-stoppered glass vial. She let the liquid settle before opening the bottle. She experimentally took a small whiff; crinkled her nose and rushed from the room once more, heading straight for the bathroom. Daria half-expected to hear an explosion before, during or shortly after the flushing but Quinn soon returned, humbled but uncharred.

"As far as I know, nitroglycerin is odorless," Daria informed her.

"Now we know conclusively that Daddy's Old Spice and _Tavoli da disegno _do not mix," Quinn said regaining her composure.

Quinn chewed her lip, scratched her head, furrowed her brow and then simply gave up. "Maybe you should just choose randomly, Daria."

"How about we go with a scent that you like, Quinn," Daria ventured. "And make sure it blends well with the reek of cashews."

Quinn brightened. "That's it. Daria, it's so nice to know that all those weird books you read haven't destroyed your common sense." She departed the room at a leisurely, assured pace and returned a moment later with a squarish bottle.

"Chanel No. 5," she said simply. "It's a classic for a reason. But you'll be meeting at the archery range before dinner at her place. Archery will make you all sweaty...ewww. I mean you can wear some before you shoot but…"

"I'll take a change of clothes. Kat said I could shower while she got dinner ready. I can re-apply this stuff too."

Daria sniffed the perfume and agreed with Quinn that it should please anyone. She put an ensemble of green blazer, sienna tee-shirt and black skirt in a gym bag with a pair of clean white socks. Quinn only sighed. She dressed in black jeans, brighter yellow tee shirt with sleeveless green vest; she donned her black boots and went out to load her gear in the car.

Daria heard the rumble of Kat's old Detroit sedan as she was taking her bow case and quiver from the back of her car at Lawndale's range. Kat pulled up beside her and hopped out. Both girls smiled at each other shyly and then hugged. Neither spoke as they unloaded their archery tackle. Daria so much wanted to hold Kat's hand as they walked the tree-shaded path to the archery lanes. But the range had people coming and going frequently that mild Sunday afternoon and the girls had to content themselves with walking close together, each with a hand on one of Kat's two cases.

The afternoon stood out for years in Daria's memory as one of the most pleasant she ever spent loosing arrows. Not for proficiency for she was only average that afternoon, distracted by Kat's attentions.

Kat stood back to watch her form with a critical eye but then smiled and moved in close to confess, "I wanted to find something wrong with your form so I could get close and touch and correct you but you are good."

"You could always use your imagination. I can take constructive, close supervision. Get too close, though, and I might bite."

Kat smiled and moved behind her to pretend to lift Daria's elbow a little on her draw or gently straighten her head and touching cheek to cheek to give her pointers on aiming.

"Ah, I see you like using three-finger-under draw," Kat said early on. "What do Americans call it, 'Apache draw'?"

"Not sure if anyone ever asked the Apaches but yeah, that's it."

That led to a pleasant extended period of Kat manipulating Daria's fingers over the bowstring, teaching her several different finger positions to draw and release the string. Kat was a patient, exacting teacher. Daria came away from that afternoon with three new draws which she liked and wanted to practice to show to Tom Zhang in the Fall.

Kat took a shortened practice session herself. Daria was happy to sit on a picnic table enjoying the sun warming her face and jeans, the dragonflies on the wing and watching Kat release arrow after arrow.

When Kat and the other archers were clear for a round, Daria insisted on jumping up and fetching Kat's arrows. She fancied she could feel Kat's eyes watching her jog out to the butt. Kat met her eyes shyly as she handed the arrows to her.

When they were both taking a break Kat proposed calling it a day and going back to her apartment for dinner. The breeze darted coins of bright sunshine across the heavily shaded path as the girls walked back to the parking lot.

Kat looked to one side and exclaimed, "Daria, look, look, mushrooms." Kat put her cases down and dashed into the light brush off the path to the edge of a small clearing. A surprised Daria watched her stoop down and carefully gather large mushrooms with long, white bell-shaped caps.

Kat was smiling from ear to ear as she came back hands cupped and brimming with the fungus. She deposited them in clean, plastic bag from her case. She saw Daria studying her and the bag with some scepticism.

"Oh, sorry. Russians love mushrooms. These are so fresh but they don't keep long. We'll eat these tonight!"

"Fine and I'll call the hospital to reserve two stomach pumps." Daria deadpanned.

Kat lightly smacked her on the arm. "Silly, you don't think I know what I am doing? This kind is perfectly safe. And delicious! Nothing else looks like these. These are shaggy manes, sometimes called lawyer's wigs."

"Lawyer's wigs, eh?" Daria looked at the bag with new appreciation. "Just right for my mother, the barrister. Are you sure they're not poisonous?"

Kat gave Daria careful directions to her apartment in case they got separated in traffic. As usual in Lawndale, the directions started with Dega Street as a reference. But she had no trouble following Kat in the light, Sunday traffic and soon parked on the street in front of Kat's 1970s-looking apartment building.

Daria hid the _Waif _magazine from Kat as she followed Kat into her spotless, ground-floor apartment. Once Kat had stowed her archery tackle, Daria produced the slick mag with what for her passed for a flourish. Kat's eyes lit up in delight as she saw herself as a teen in the skimpy blue bikini.

"Oh goodness, someone published my pictures?" She snatched the mag from Daria's hands and flipped through the pages of her shoot and studied the front cover. "I never thought I would see these pictures."

"This shoot helped me pay for my first competition bow," Kat went on. She pointed to a spot just outside a picture of her in the blue bikini. "Daddy was standing right there. He made sure the photographer would not do any funny business. But the man was perfect gentleman. So how did you get this, Daria?"

"My sister is a fashion zombie. She's had a subscription probably since she was seven. Kat, I...um...looked at these pictures of you a lot before I even met you."

Kat chuckled. "You have good taste. But I am not the only celebrity in the room." Kat held up a newspaper with Daria and the twins cuddled in the blanket. "You all look so cute. Little baby birds in nest."

The two laughed with Daria's laughter a bit nervous. She was glad Kat did not question her on the circumstances of the fire.

Daria noticed the icon on a table, a bearded saint in robes of red and gold painted on a board. Hung over a corner of the icon was a string of honey-colored beads. She did not recognize it as a Catholic rosary.

"Saint Nicholas the Wonderworker," she ventured, curious and thankful for a change of topic. "Patron saint of archers."

"Yes, Daria," Kat grinned. "And special beloved saint of Russians."

"Also patron of thieves," Daria pointed out.

"Repentant thieves," Kat stressed with a laugh.

Daria told her story to Kat, "Earlier this summer as I was unloading my bow at the range I said out loud, 'Saint Nicolas, please give me a good shoot today.' I surprised myself as I'm not a praying person but I had been reading a lot of random facts about the history of archery so I figured that came out like random crap in a dream."

Kat nodded listening attentively.

"A wheel bow guy sighted on the wrong pin or got target panic bad or something and he sent a couple arrows way over the target. I helped him look in the brush wanting to find his arrows before the wood ticks found me. I did find both of his arrows but not before I found five wooden arrows. One after another, clean and in perfect condition, fletched in bright gold and red feathers. And they smelled wonderful, like Grandma Barksdale's cedar chest; I've never noticed arrows smelling like that before or since. What archer wouldn't look for hours for such beautiful arrows? But these were just lying on the grass like someone had dropped them just for me. They fit my bow perfectly."

Kat smiled appreciatively, "Daria, many people receive a blessing from the Saint. But I have never heard story quite like that. I think the Saint has special attention for you. You have to come with me to the qualifier and ask for blessing on me!"

Daria easily made the promise wanting to see what a serious archery competition was like anyway. Then she asked, "So you're a believer, Kat? An Orthodox Christian?"

"Yes," Kat said simply and sincerely.

"But you're...," Daria could not say even the simple word 'gay'.

"A faggot?" Kat put her lips into a hard, thin line as Daria gasped. She took Daria's hand. "You better be used to that kind of bad talk if you want to be open about yourself, about us. Sooner or later someone will call you that, maybe worse."

"The church and I are still working all this stuff out," Kat sighed and continued. "But I know God made me what I am and I accept it is a blessing."

Kat smiled. "But the mushrooms are not getting any fresher. Daria, go shower. Big, fluffy towels you will find in the cabinets. I get supper ready!" For the first time that day the girls kissed.

"But you need to shower too," Daria asked getting some interesting ideas on possible shower arrangements.

"Ha," said Kat putting a finger on the shorter girl's nose. "I will go quick shower with the guys down the hall. I mean in their apartment."

Kat winked, "Don't worry. They are big gay boys. Take a long, hot one, my dear."

Daria emerged from the shower and put on her clean uniform of pleated black skirt, mustard tee and green jacket. Her combat boots completed the outfit.

Daria saw a water-filled metal pot with a central chimney on Kat's kitchen table. The water was coming to a rolling boil. Several plates covered with pyramids of paper-thin rolls of a pink and fat-marbled meat were placed around the pot. Other plates held crisp, translucent white noodles, a couple varieties of cabbage-like vegetables and cubes of tofu. A few smaller dishes contained sauces and powdered spices. The cleaned and sliced mushrooms occupied a plate of their own.

Daria hated to admit it and it was a source of teasing from Quinn but—skinny as she was—she could give her father close competition as a chowhound. She had no idea what Kat was serving but it looked wonderfully appetizing and intriguing. Loosing arrows had loosened a good appetite in her tummy and she felt it rumble as she watched steam rise from the pot.

Kat had changed into a light-blue tee over the same track suit bottom which she had worn when Daria first saw her. She was setting a couple plates on the table with chopsticks and other utensils. She looked up smiling, "Sorry, no Russian food but I thought you would like Mongolian meal with Chinese touches."

She spread her arm theatrically over the table. "So, instant-boiled mutton with 'the works' tofu, rice noodles, bok choy and all needed sauces. Kublai Khan ate this before an important victory."

"Actually," Kat confessed. "Not mutton. It's lamb. I hope you don't mind." She winked at Daria. Daria shook her head, eager to start the meal.

"You can do this with electric wok too," Kat went on. "But I was able to find the smokeless special charcoal so this is more authentic and fun."

Daria noticed that the base of the pot had an opening in which a pile of square chunks of glowed hotly red. Kat had put a couple of heavy tiles under the pot to protect the table.

Kat gave her a quick tutorial on chopstick use. She had always thought of herself as a bit of a klutz and was pleased that she picked up the skill quickly.

Kat pulled a bottle of clear liquid from the freezer. She poured a couple shot glasses full of the liquor. "First we toast with vodka," she announced.

Daria was about to ask about killing taste buds but then decided to do as the Romans when in Rome. She and Kat linked arms dramatically and they gulped down the vodka. The contrast of the fiery liquor at freezing temperature surprised Daria. Kat laughed as Daria gave a jerk and shudder when the bright, clear liquid hit her empty tummy.

It was very good but Daria was happy to see Kat pour them each only half a shot more and return the bottle to the freezer. Kat pulled a bottle of fizzy mineral water from the refrigerator and filled two goblets.

The vodka readied Daria for the main event, the lamb. Kat used her chopsticks to drop a few rolls of meat into the rolling water. Pieces of cabbage and lengths of noodles followed. Kat stirred with the chopsticks.

"The meat cooks quickest," Kat told her as only a few moments later she fished out strips of fully cooked meat and deposited them in a bowl of sauce and spice she had prepared for Daria.

Daria closed her eyes in enjoyment as she chewed the tender hot, moist meat. The sesame based sauce was piquant but did not overwhelm the delicate lamb. Instant-boiled mutton was a cooperative venture, Daria discovered. She and Kat each stirred meat and noodles or veggies into the boiling water. They retrieved pieces and put morsels in each other's bowls.

Daria could see Kat enjoyed the mushrooms greatly but she decided it was a taste she would have to work to acquire.

"Good," Kat declared of the shaggy manes. "But next time I would fry in butter or bacon fat."

The girls ate to their stomachs' content and then some, until the water was sleek with mutton fat. When they were both meditatively swirling morsels around in sauce more than eating, Kat set a clean bowl before each of them. She ladled a few ounces of the water into each bowl.

"Drink, Daria, this is the last part of the meal. The soup will keep you warm into next winter."

Daria sipped the rich, fatty broth. It did not make her feel hot but she had no doubt about Kat's winter warmth claims as it seemed to seep throughout her body.

Kat and Daria moved to Kat's love seat. Daria let herself be pulled down onto Kat's lap. They snuggled, cuddled, embraced and hugged. Daria murmured, "Dream come true." as her nipples stiffened against Kat's. The girls were content to hold each other closely.

"Ummm...sweet perfume." Kat said inhaling slowly, the only words either girl spoke for a long time.

Daria rested her cheek against Kat's. The two just looked at the slowly fading embers in the hot pot, cheeks pressed together. One or the other would occasionally sigh contentedly and then they would turn faces towards each other for a slow, long kiss.

Daria had rarely felt so comfortable and at peace. She was not sleepy at all despite a full stomach of instant-boiled mutton and all the fixings. She felt as alert as she had that afternoon in the sun, running to fetch Kat's missiles.

Daria listened to Kat's calm, even breathing. She wanted many things from that evening, but she realized, somewhat to her surprise, that what she wanted most of all was to make Kat happy. She wanted to hear Kat purr like a kitten.

Daria was her own greatest source of surprises lately and she proved that once again by delicately flicking her fingers over Kat's instantly responsive nipples. Kat hummed in pleasure and let her lover play with her breasts. She repeated Daria's car move by turning and straddling a happily startled Daria.

"Oh, Kat, Kat." Daria gasped as Kat stroked and slid and pressed her nipples against Daria's own. The two let the pleasure build and build and then with unspoken agreement they calmly returned to sitting side by side, cheek to cheek. The evening was young yet; the young women knew nothing needed to be rushed, only sipped and savored at their pleasure.

Kat's stereo began playing Sia Furler. On a slow number, Daria stood and extended her hand to Kat, "May I have this dance?"

The young women found their seemingly natural positions: Daria's arms around Kat's shoulders, Kat leading her with hands on her waist. They made a slow waltz around Kat's small apartment.

Kat's fingers worked their way lower until she was encasing Daria's butt over her skirt. Daria looked over her shoulder, "Just checking for horns."

The two girls giggled and shared a kiss. Kat massaged Daria's rear making her coo in pleasure.

"God, I love your clothes," Kat enthused. "This skirt, it's like curtains down before famous Moscow theater troupe begins newly discovered Chekhov play. You can't wait for the curtains to go up."

"You can be the stagehand," Daria said deadpan, aware that she was spouting nonsense even as Kat's caresses on her butt got firmer. They shared wet kisses. Daria pulled away and slowly, to Kat's eyes widening in surprise, stuck out her tongue and licked her own nose.

"Oh my God, Oh goodness, Oh Daria, come here," Kat excitedly pulled her in for more wet, sloppy kissing. Daria's rear tingled under Kat's expert touch.

"Yum," Daria said. "Everyone likes to play with my ass."

The tingling stopped with Kat removing her hands from the other woman's butt. Daria knew she had said something wrong but tried to make a save. "Kat, I meant…I like it when you play with me...you like to play with me."

"Everyone plays with your ass?," Kat almost screeched. "Everyone? And just how many people have been putting hands up teasing skirt of yours? It's got to be that Jason and that Trent, at least! I know it."

Daria was not used to arguments outside the family in general and especially not the kind of argument it seemed that Kat was gearing up to have. Her arguments with Tom had been clinical affairs, like two philosophers coldly stating opposing propositions. Kat seemed about to throw the sauce bowls around.

"So what if it's Jason and-or Trent?" Daria asked still deadpan but feeling her emotions heat. "You don't own me." True enough, but it did not seem like the right thing to say at the moment. She tried again, "We're here together now, Kat. We were having a good time. Kat, isn't that enough?"

"God, you bis are all alike," Kat went on. "You think you can have anyone you want and anytime you just pretty please."

"Bis?" Daria asked her voice heating up evidenced only by her speaking slightly louder and quicker. "How the hell do you think you know so much about me? I only knew I was a 'bi' a few days ago when my little kid sister told me. I haven't had time to read the gah-damned rule book. And what about you Little Miss I-ALWAYS-GO-TOO-FAST? How many other girls' asses have you gone 'too fast' on? "

"Kat, I just want you to hold me. Please." Daria took Kat's hand asking not pleading.

"Just get out," Kat pulled free her hand and turned her back. "Go."

She may have heard Kat softly, brokenly calling, "Daria" as she got out the door but she continued slowly, stonily to her car parked on the street. Daria sat in her car and sobbed before collecting herself. Her careful drive home held off any emotional release. She mechanically drank a glass of cold water after entering the kitchen from the garage then trudged into the living room.

"Hi Kiddo," Jake called enthusiastically from the couch. "How was the range and the Russky supper? Did your friend make borscht?"

Daria's lips trembled. She plopped down on a surprised Jake's lap uttering a word she had not said in more than ten years, "Daddy."

Although it had been a long time, Jake's muscles remembered how to hold a hurting child. He protectively wrapped his arms around his older girl.

"It's okay, kiddo. Tell Daddy all about it."

"Jake, was that Daria?" Helen came down from their bedroom, having changed into comfortable sweat pants and shirt after her plane trip. Jake looked up and nodded. Helen fell silent. She simply sat and embraced her now sobbing daughter.

"Mom's here too, Daria."

Barely coherent and in between wheezes of weeping, Daria poured out the revelations and events of the past week.

Helen's eyes widened as she associated the pronouns 'her' and 'she' with the name 'Kat.' Her stroking of Daria's hair and back paused then resumed as Jake said softly, "Remember, we talked about this, Helen."

"Daddy, Mommy, I don't know if Kat likes me anymore. And I think I went too far too fast with Jason and Trent, but nothing bad happened." To her credit, Daria was never ashamed of her regression to near baby talk.

Quinn returned singing, floating from a wonderful date. Expressions of joy died on her lips as she took in the living room scene. She sat and held Daria, soothing and stroking her.

Daria's sobs gradually quieted. "Let's all get to bed," Jake then said simply.

"Everything's okay, Daria. We'll talk better in the morning. Do you want to go to bed now, kiddo?"

Daria nodded. Jake stood and picked his daughter up. After a pause to gain his balance, he effortlessly carried her upstairs to her room, Helen and Quinn following. He laid her on her bed then knelt down and kissed the top of her auburn head. He left Helen and Quinn to prepare her for bed and tuck her in.


	6. Reflections - A Professional Courtesy

Arrows Through Her Heart

_Chapter Six: Reflection & A Professional Courtesy_

Daria and related characters and situations are the property of Viacom / MTV Networks. This work is strictly for the entertainment of Daria fans and not for any monetary or material gain whatsoever. All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

_REFLECTION_

Another bright, beautiful blue-sky Lawndale morning awakened Daria. She noted that she was in her usual boy-boxers and black tee-shirt sleeping attire and was embarrassed to recall her mother and sister prepping her for bed.

Daria hoped her mother and father had left for work already, but they were dressed casually and seated at the kitchen table. The table fairly groaned under the weight of a breakfast spread such as was rarely seen in Manse Morgendorffer. The sights and smells of sausage, bacon, pancakes, yogurt and three kinds of cut-up fruit aroused her appetite. Her mother poured her a cup of coffee immediately.

"Squirrel population at all-time high! Gah." Jake fumed, barely looking up from his paper. "Hey! I wonder if we could put rodenticide on expired nuts. I should talk to Dale. I bet they'd really go for those lemongrass almonds. Lousy, greedy squirrels!"

"I see things are back to abnormal around here," Daria said. She took a breath, "Mom, Dad, I'm sorry for unloading on you like that last night."

Helen began, "We would have been more worried if you had tried to keep that all in. I'm so happy that you know you can talk to us." Jake folded his paper and nodded.

"Mom, Dad, It sounds dumb, but a few days ago Quinn had to tell me that I was bisexual. I didn't know what to think about that…for the past week I really didn't even think about it, even when I went on dates with people I just met. Now I know she's right. I still don't know what it all means exactly, but I like boys and girls."

She bit her lip and regarded Helen. "Mom, are you mad?"

"Mad? Daria, dear, do you see your bags packed and waiting for you by the door?" Helen asked. "But give me some time to get used to it. I'm not jumping around in joy, but I'm not mad."

"What Mom means, Daria," Jake attempted, "is that we think you have twice the chance of getting your heart broken. Twice the chance? Does that work out? Anyway, not all girls you might like will like you back…like like that anyway."

"Of course, it also means you have twice the chance of a great date on Saturday night!" Jake pondered.

"Jake!" Helen shook her head. "Daria, what your father and I talked about is that you might be meeting people who engage in, well, risky behavior. We trust you but, of course, we can't know all about everyone you meet. In the last few days, you just seemed to act so fast without thinking…not like yourself at all. We just think this opens you up to things that might be unhealthy."

Daria took a sudden interest at the kitchen floor. "I know, Mom, but probably no more than...uhh..straight dating. Look, I don't know how the aliens hijacked my brain last week. I'm going to be more careful from now on. Promise."

"Daria," Helen said satisfied for the moment. "Don't just look at the food. Sit and eat. Your father and I were up early to make this for you and Quinn."

Daria gratefully sat down and dove into a stack of pancakes, slathering them with real maple syrup and topping a big bowl of fruit with yogurt. Jake was happy to join her with seconds of everything. Helen sipped her coffee and watched them eat, amazed at how much alike Daria and Jake were.

After a time of vigorous utensil wielding, Daria sat back contentedly and amused herself by sopping up syrup with a sausage. "Thanks, Mom, thanks, Dad. So where is my dear sister this early morning?"

Helen cleared her throat, "She and Tiffany had an early meeting with…uh…Jason about jewelry design."

Daria nodded. "That's okay, Mom, I'm strong enough to hear the name without curling up into a ball, although you may want to check on me later. And what are you two doing home on this fine, first capitalist work-day of the week?"

Jake tried, "Daria, we talked and you cried a lot last night. We thought you might want to continue this morning. The talking that is. And you can cry more if you need to. Besides, I don't have anything until this afternoon when Dale and I meet with the other Nutty owners by video conference. Amazing video stuff nowadays!"

Helen took up the slack, "You and Quinn are both going off to school in a few weeks. We wanted to start doing things like this before the house got so empty." She and Jake looked somber at that.

Helen continued, "And I admit I'm worn down from the firm's big litigation on the other side of the state. Even Eric is taking the day off."

"Did you guys win, Mom?" Daria asked.

Helen calculated. "Sometimes you win by not losing as much as everyone expected and in that sense we won big." She looked as if her daughter's simple question was causing her to evaluate her law career.

Daria bit her lip, stood and stepped up to Helen. "Mom, I'm still a virgin. I promise you and Dad, I'll be careful."

Jake ruffled his papers and buried his nose in the sports section. Helen nodded, accepting her daughter's confidence gravely.

Daria gave her mother a hug unexpected by both of them. She took a shower and returned to her room to dress. Quinn had persuaded her to put a wide full-length mirror against one wall. She had objected at first until she realized that a mirror opposite one of her more macabre posters would be like having a second copy in her room, with the bonus of being reversed. She caught sight of herself wrapped tightly in a bathrobe. This past week of unexpected events and actions also needed a reflection, she decided, a conclusion.

The towel fell from her hair and she brushed out her thick auburn tresses. The bathrobe dropped and Daria stood naked before the mirror save for her thick glasses.

Unlike many colleges, Raft had the reputation for cafeterias serving a variety of tasty, healthy food. She had unhesitantly purchased the full-meal plan at Raft, much to Jake's envy. She had earned the envy of Tom Zhang too who told her horror stories of Crestmore's infamous freshman dining hall and its indescribable, indecipherable chunks of meat and vegetables. Despite the temptation of available good food almost 24/7, the freshman-fifteen, which she had heard classmates speak of in dread, had settled on her as only five pounds or so.

Daria twisted her body, craned her neck and stood sideways to regard the body part which seemed to have caught Jason, Trent and Kat's rapt attention: her rear. The gained five pounds or so had apparently worked to round out her ass, she decided with the hips widening slightly as well.

She didn't know where Quinn got her cute, slim, semicircular butt cheeks from but Daria finally fully realized something she had only hinted to herself before: she had or was developing her mother's rear. "Matronly, womanly" were the words which came to her writer's mind. Some words have undeserved connotations, she thought. She remembered that as a young teen she had wanted to punch the lights out of the men and boys she had caught following her mother's hip swing with furtive glances.

"_Was Kat watching me like that yesterday?" _she asked herself. "_I like to think so. That's one reason I wanted to fetch her arrows. But I also just wanted to let her rest while I did some jogging in the sun." _Good God, did that mean she was a tease, even a little bit of one? Okay, table that one, Daria decided as she faced the mirror full frontal.

_ "Five foot, two inches," _she thought as she looked at her slender frame. _"Everybody in the world over twelve years old is taller than me. People shrink as they age? Eep! By the time I'm sixty-five, I'll be four foot, eight inches short."_

She had kept her thick, auburn hair the same length for years, below the shoulders. She ran a hand through her locks and had to admit to herself she was a bit vain about her hair. It wasn't Quinn's attention-grabbing fiery orange-red long mane but she thought her hair had its own subtle attractions.

Regarding one patch of hair naturally led her to drop her gaze from her head to between her legs. She knew the hair down there was supposed to be darker and coarser than head hair but she could never see or feel any difference in shade or texture. _"I'm a mutant, alien life-form, there's proof enough." _Soft, straight and short auburn fur greeted her eyes and it even gently parted in the middle. Daria was a modest thing and did not let her attention dwell long between her legs, besides, it was only early morning.

Her belly was just a bit rounded but tight due to archery no doubt and the toning exercises she had learned from trainers at Raft.

Daria lifted her eyes to the objects of Tom Sloane's long pursuit. 'Buxom' was not the word for her grapefruit-half sized boobs, although 'perky' came to mind that morning as she noted and felt that her nipples were at attention. She shivered as she remembered playing with Kat's breasts, her nipples against Kat's. That full-body shudder of pleasure only made her nipples more stiff and erect. "_Now girls, down please. Be lady-like." _Her nipples almost perfectly matched the pink tone of her full lips.

Her skin was the pale, almost translucent white which bespoke countless generations of Northern European ancestry. A stray blue vein or two highlighted her breasts. Her bucket hat and generous use of sunscreen during afternoons at archery ranges had prevented the development of a full-on 'farmer's tan' on her face, neck and arms.

Daria removed her glasses and got in close to the mirror. Deep green eyes with gold and black flecks stared back. She had never considered it until a couple days ago when Trent gave her the arrows and Jake had expounded on the banding but her usual high-school clothes did match the colors of her eyes.

Eyes are the window to the soul and Daria began some searching. Bisexual? Okay, Daria knew there would be more challenges and surprises ahead but she could handle it, she knew that, especially now given the enormous relief she was feeling. Helen and Jake were not ready to drive her from the house or scream at her or do anything worse that her pessimistic slant could come up with.

She liked boys and girls, did she? Fifty-fifty? Forty-sixty? Seventy-thirty? Did it even make sense to try to break it down like that? She remembered what Quinn had said as Quinn rocked her just a few days before, "You'll figure it out." Quinn who had held her and said, "I love you so much."

But Helen was right: she was acting very un-Daria like. 'Impulsive' had never been a word people would apply to Daria Morgendorffer. But in the past week she had let three virtual strangers fondle her sex, strip her half-naked and basically handle her at their pleasure. But she had let them, Daria had decided to permit them to go as far as they did and she would stop the attentions from going too far.

It was all very confusing certainly, for instance, when she looked in the mirror just now she had bemoaned her height. But when held by one of her much taller lovers it felt so good, the contrast was exciting.

Daria took a step back from the mirror and shook her head watching her heavy hair wave. This was harder than any calculus problem; harder than making an essay about campaign finance reform sound new and exciting.

Daria had certainly let her lovers take the lead; let them play with her almost like a doll. But again, she had permitted it and knew how far she would let it go. And giving up control had been exciting. She doubted she was a masochist; she was not ready for someone to bring on the whips and chains and she knew she never would permit that. Well, handcuffs maybe, she reflected as she pleasurably remembered Trent's hands firmly holding her down on the bed.

That brought up the safety issue to consider, of course. Kat probably and certainly Trent and Jason were much stronger than her and could have overpowered her if they chose. She would surely have fought like a hellion but she would have been overcome. She doubted the three of them would have resorted to force, but she knew and Quinn and her parents had warned her that there were such evil people out there.

She still felt like Daria. Give her an eight ounce glass with four ounces of fluid and she would not have wondered about half-full or half-empty. She would have worried about who might be trying to take it away from her.

Her writing had taken on a new passion and spark since her revelatory conversation with Quinn last week. Even a dry as dust topic like congressional term limits seemed to take on a new verve when she sat down at her computer or with paper and pen. Instructors at Raft had praised her essay writing for its logic and detail but as one gently told her much of it seemed to lack life and conviction. Now powerful words and sentences seemed to flow from her. A fictional character like Melody Powers had deeper more interesting motivations.

"_Better writing through sexual sublimation? So cliche."_ But it was not sublimation exactly. She wanted to see Trent again and let it lead where it would. Same with Jason and, oh God, Kat. Daria smiled her tiny smile into the mirror and danced a step or two remembering Kat leading her. How to make up with Kat? Did she want to even?

Daria sighed. Much as she might not want to admit it some problems were not easily solved with logic and consideration. This would only take experience she thought, experience and cautiously following her heart.

Daria thought she heard Quinn talking to their parents downstairs. _"Basta,"_ she said to herself as Quinn would have put it. She slid on a pair of black panties.

Quinn's soft knock sounded on the door. Daria would have continued to put on a black sports bra but tossed it aside impulsively. A small smirk played across her lips, "Is that you, Quinn? Come in."

"Buon giorno, mia sorella," Quinn called brightly as she entered.

"Oh, sorry, sis." Quinn was backing out and closing the door as she saw Daria standing in black panties only before the mirror.

"No, no, stay, Quinn. I'm just getting dressed."

Quinn got her professional look in her eyes and closed the door behind her. She stood behind Daria at the mirror. Daria noted that Quinn still seemed to be growing, drat her, as the younger, taller Quinn loomed just over her right shoulder.

"You're a beautiful woman, Daria," Quinn said sincerely the professional appraisal softening now. "No surprise that you have three people at once chasing you. I know you don't play it that way but you always could have had a dozen guys-and girls-at your feet if you tried."

"And all that archery gave you great posture. Stand tall, sis!"

Quinn giggled at that and it even wrung a tiny smile from Daria. She slipped on the black bra then as Quinn sat on her bed.

Quinn started chattering excitedly about the meeting with Tiffany and Jason that morning, how it seemed the three of them, unlikely as it might seem, complimented each other's ideas on jewelry designs and completed skill sets the others did not have. It was a first meeting, true, but Quinn prattled brightly about a good future for Decklerdorffer Designs.

Quinn caught herself after several mentions of Jason and eyed Daria carefully.

"It's okay, Quinn," Daria allowed. "Go on, business is business. I'm a big girl. Just let me sob quietly in my closet."

With that, Daria opened her closet and regarded her wardrobe—if that term could be applied to five or six sets of the virtually the same green blazer, orange tee shirt and black pleated skirt. What she had said to Quinn about the clothes being her friends was not far from the truth. For years the ensemble had performed its intended functions for her faithfully and flawlessly. It made a simple statement: people should look beyond fashion and the clothes hanging on somebody to the person's actions and intentions. It formed a shield against the unwanted attentions of the shallow. A couple added benefits had become apparent as well: at intervals her clothes really ticked Quinn off. She had also come to appreciate how fast it had been to choose what to wear in the morning which, to her pleasure, also disgusted Quinn.

Oddly though, her skirt now appeared to be irresistible to Trent, Jason and Kat. They had verily waxed poetic about its butt magnet power to make them want to feel up her ass under and over its confines.

Daria pulled a loyal, well-worn ensemble from the closet and turned to Quinn. "Quinn, do you think you and Mom could go shopping with me this afternoon? Help me choose a few things? Well, maybe just one or two outfits? And, Oh God help me, maybe a bikini? I might want to even out my tan."

Quinn clasped her hands in delight, "Oh yes, yes, Daria. I'm sure Mom would love to relax and shop with us. And Cashman's having a sale!"

"Cashman's and everywhere else in America is always having a sale." Daria deadpanned. "Just remember, I like green and black."

_A PROFESSIONAL COURTESY_

In the small hours, Daria was awakened by a light tapping on her window. She went back to sleep not having the will to get out of bed. A few minutes later the tapping came again, quiet but quicker.

"_At last a dream to torment my little bi-mind_," she said to herself as she saw a husky, blonde teenage boy in a short, white toga arrangement hovering outside her window. His wide, white-feathered wings slowly flapped and kept him in one spot. The boy carried a nimbus of light around himself on the moonless, overcast night.

She opened her window and asked, "Where's your friend, Paddy McIrish?"

"Ahhh, he and Guy Fawkes Day are arguing about Scottish independence," Saint Valentine's surfer dude voice drawled. "And this doesn't concern him. It's a professional, collegial visit: one archer to another." He held up a short, golden bow at that.

"What happened to your love-taser?" Daria wanted to know.

"There's a push back on Holiday Island to get back to basics, true to tradition," the winged boy explained.

Saint Valentine's Day began to slowly turn upside down. He seemed to not notice.

"_If his diaper obeys the law of gravity, this dream will officially become my nightmare,_" Daria thought. She was ready to avert her eyes but it seemed he was flying in a realm of different natural laws or perspectives as he turned completely upside down from her and his toga did not flutter or droop.

"I watch over affairs of the heart, Daria Morgendorffer," the boy got straight to the point as his orientation towards Daria straightened as well. "You and your weird art friend helped us get Holiday Island High School back to normal so I have an offer for you."

He held up three arrows. She saw that all had heads shaped like Valentine's hearts, two pink and one blue.

"Unless I'm not aware of something," Daria ventured. "I've got two boys and one girl. So, two pinks and a blue?"

"Ahh, people today don't know nothing," the hefty lad stated. "Pink and red are man's color: dynamic, active, venturesome. Blue for girls: passive, retiring, cool, reflective."

He would have gone on but Daria cut him off, "Okay, I understand...I won't argue but I understand. So, if I get the concept correct, you're offering to shoot Jason, Trent and Kat thus ensuring their undying love for yours truly, Daria Morgendorffer."

"Undying love?" Saint Valentine's Day said a tad confused. "Oh no, that was the old days. I've tweaked the dosage. Now it's two weeks. Should be time enough for you to make a decision: one or two or all or none. And I don't have to use all your arrows at once."

"I never miss," he concluded confidently.

"Two or all? Why you little libertine," Daria said and the lad smirked.

"At least you don't have a wheel bow," Daria said still unsure how to respond. "But why don't you play the Barry White and have me blurt out my one true love du jour?"

She wasn't serious but the soft, seductive music played from all around her. Her mouth and throat started working on their own and nothing came out. Kat, Trent, Jason? Someone else? Not a face came to her mind. Not a name got to her lips. The music faded.

"See?" the boy regarded her, Daria thought, with sympathy and even envy. "You are truly a rare one, Daria Morgendorffer. Your love is deeply buried even from yourself. Your heart is yours alone to give with thought and consideration and when you are ready, emotion and love. When you are ready, when you decide. Or maybe you will never love."

He let that possibility play out as her breath caught in her throat. "But I doubt that," he concluded. "I professionally, truly, surely doubt that."

Daria found her voice, "Thanks, Valentine's, but I think I'll pass. For now anyway. Maybe keep tabs on me? You never know, I might change. But I don't think so."

The stout lad nodded satisfied. He slowly began receding from her; flying straight backwards, getting smaller and smaller but the image remaining clear and sharp to her sight.

"I will watch you, Daria Morgendorffer," he said becoming almost a pin point. "Be on the watch as well; there are beautiful, evil people out there, boys and girls."

Then as he and the light disappeared: "Oh, and you need a new bowstring. Try Conrad's Archery Fun Shoppe just off Dega and Seventh."

"_Hah_," she thought as she closed the window and climbed back into bed. "_Quinn, my parents and now my subconscious all warn me against evil boys and girls. I wish my life were so exciting._" She fell into a deep, no-more-dreams sleep.

Overnight a mighty storm blew through Lawndale raining and striking down branches. The next morning, the sisters were assigned to pick sticks off the back yard. Quinn found the whitest, largest feather she had ever seen.


	7. No Thorns Attached

Arrows Through Her Heart

_Chapter Seven: No Thorns Attached_

Daria and related characters and situations are the property of Viacom / MTV Networks. This work is strictly for the entertainment of Daria fans and not for any monetary or material gain whatsoever. All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Since Quinn's matriculation into seventh grade and boy's discovering their instant attraction to her, Manse Morgendorffer had never lacked for fresh flowers and this particular morning, after the customary bunches of exotic and varying run-of-the-mill flowers for Quinn, bouquets for the other Morgendorffer girl began to arrive.

First in were a dozen red roses from Jason. "Predictable," Quinn pronounced outside of Daria's hearing.

Trent's offering of a variety of species and colors won higher praise from the discerning Quinn.

Deliveries from Ekaterina Timofeyeva arrived in full name and staggered at intervals of half-hours. Quinn posted herself on hand to interpret the colors of the roses which an astonished, flattered Daria collected.

"Gratitude," Quinn pronounced at the first delivery: a dozen pink roses.

"Enchantment," Quinn almost swooned at a dozen softly lavender blossoms.

"Oh, Daria, she has the hots for you. Oo La La." Quinn smirked and teased as a dozen orange and yellow roses sent Quinn and a blushing Daria searching for more vases.

A single red rose bud signaled to Quinn that Ekaterina Timofeyeva was through with the blooms for the day. The bud seemed to mean more to Quinn than all of the fully-opened petals sending their attar through the house. She clutched it to herself and sniffed it repeatedly until she remembered it was for her sister. Quinn relinquished it sheepishly to a Daria who was amused both by Quinn and this new language of flowers to which she had no inkling.

She explained it to Daria like Mr. O'Neill trying to get a Shakespearean sonnet through to Kevin Thompson. "Red rose for love. A single one for exclusivity. Oh, so romantic! And Daria, it's a bud, not opened. That means hope and faith and a new beginning and she's worried she blew it with you."

Daria considered the flowers around her; sucked her lower lip then decided, "I guess I should call her and attempt detente. Where's Kissinger when you need him?"

Quinn rushed to put herself between the hall phone and Daria. She clamped one hand over the handset and held the other palm open and out at her sister.

"No no no no no." Quinn exhorted. "Daria, you have her right where you want her. Play her along some more. Keep her guessing. It's on Kat to call you and apologize."

"Quinn, that's the point. I DON'T have her where I want her. At this point that would probably be upstairs in my bed." It was Quinn's turn to blush. "I'm not you and she's not Jeffy, Joey or Jamie—thank God. I think blowing fifty bucks or so on flowers is apology enough. Now back off that phone, Quinn, or you'll be wearing it someplace you don't want to dig it out of."

"But you haven't even gotten chocolates out of her."

Daria was trying to decide whether to reach around and wrestle Quinn then and there for the hall unit or make a dash for the kitchen phone when its ring rendered the contest moot for the moment. Quinn answered in her sweetest saccharine tones, "Morgendorffer residence, Quinn speaking. Yes? Oh, Ms. Timofeyeva. Call you 'Kat'? Why, thank you very much, Kat. Yes, Daria's here. One moment please."

Quinn held her palm over the mouthpiece and the whole handset in the air as Daria lunged for it. With her other hand Quinn silently counted down from five twice before she handed off the handset.

"Hi Kat," Daria deadpanned while shooting daggers at her little sister. She made shooing motions at Quinn which caused Quinn to sit on the arm of a nearby overstuffed chair, fold her arms and smile sweetly as she listened. "Thanks for all the flowers, Kat. Yeah, they're beautiful. But it's too much, Kat. We're being invaded by drooling, rabid bees over here. Sick, Sad World's sending over a crew to cover the story. And save your money, Kat."

Deep breath then, "Listen, Kat, I'm sorry I…What? You're sorry? Yeah? Yeah. So Kat, how about we start over…a new beginning…like, you know, a single red rose bud." She mimed shooting herself in mortified self-disgust as a delighted Quinn clapped silently.

"What? Do I want to go dancing?" Daria hesitated causing Quinn to experience a paroxysm of head-nodding. "Sure, I guess, Kat. But I have to warn you that a slow waltz a few feet in any direction is all I probably can manage without crushing your feet, kicking your shins and rendering other grievous bodily harm. Oh, you'll take your chances? 7:30 Friday night? Yeah, I'm free and I don't work until late afternoon on Saturday. Where you say? The Groovy Cove? Retro nights on Friday? Okay, never heard of either thing but I'll be ready. All right, you know where I live, Kat. I'll see you then. Bye."

Daria hung up wondering what had just happened. Kat who had been close to nuclear a day or so ago had apparently just made up with her and now they were going dancing. She became aware of her sister dancing around and congratulating her. "Brava, mia sorella. Brava!"

Quinn stopped momentarily with her finger on her cheek in thought. "But no more Chanel No. 5. Maybe that's what set Kat off."

Quinn stopped her musings then as she saw Daria rounding on her. Daria was feeling conflicted emotions and had chosen to go with her default settings of irritation to mild anger.

"Quinn, you're my sister and I love you…" Daria stopped herself as each sister heard that first in many years declaration. Daria recovered and forged ahead. "I swear if you keep up your nosy butting-in I'll…"

Daria took Quinn's hands then and said softer, "Quinn, I sort of feel I'm in over my head. With three guys and girls happening so fast and dating in general. I...I need you. Just give me some space too, okay."

Daria thought she saw a brighter than usual twinkle in Quinn's eyes. "Sure, sis. I understand. I'm just so happy for you. Hmm...retro nights dance at The Groovy Cove. I have just the things. Come on!"

Daria let herself be hauled up to Quinn's room. She sat on Quinn's bed as Quinn fossicked wildly through closet and armoire. At last Quinn held out a flat white box.

"This was Mom's from back in the day as our 'rents sometimes say." Quinn handed the box to Daria. Daria got up to go to her room to inspect and possibly don the contents but Quinn was impatient. "Just try it on here."

"Space, Quinn please. Let me maintain a little modesty. I'm not quite Gypsy Rose Lee yet."

"That's not how it seemed the other day, Little Miss Black Panties." Quinn smirked.

Nevertheless, Daria was allowed to dress in her own room with door closed. She returned to Quinn's room. "I am now ready to dance in a nice gilded cage somewhere."

Quinn's breath was taken away by her sister in a tight orange miniskirt with wide belt cinching her already slim waist. An almost sleeveless tight top with a black and white checkered pattern fit Daria perfectly. The whole effect screamed '60s go-go girl, well almost...

"And here, these finish it off." Quinn plopped a white leather cap on Daria's auburn hair. Daria put on the proffered knee-high white leather boots and regarded herself in the mirror. She had to admit the whole effect was very well done.

"You know, sis," Quinn said as she inspected Daria's togs. "I don't think I could pull off this look but on you it's fabulous. Groovy! Far-out! But too bad your glasses aren't rose-colored."

Daria was not sure if all that was a compliment but coming from Quinn she took it as such and smiled wanly.

"But Daria," Quinn begged. "You really need some big hoop earrings. Let me get some ice, alcohol, a potato and Mom's darning needles. We'll pierce your ears right here and now!"

"No way I'm letting you anywhere near me with sharp objects, Quinn!" Daria backed away and held up her hands to fend off any advance from her sister.

"You're right. Let's go to the mall and let Pearl at Pearl's Petite Piercing Parlour do it. You won't feel a thing and you can have some great hoops in there by Friday!"

"Nice try, Quinn but I won't fall for it. Jane has enough holes in the head for the both of us. I don't need two more."

Quinn pouted but contented herself with the fashion reform progress she had made on Daria to that point. Quinn looked concerned as Daria's face became even grimmer than usual. "What, Daria? What is it?'

"Maybe I should have Kat pick me up someplace else," Daria began uncertainly. "I mean they were okay in the abstract with me...uh...liking girls but what about when they meet my real, live potential girlfriend for themselves? I don't want to give Dad another coronary. Or subject Kat to Mom's ultra-lawyerly high-power third degree."

Quinn thought a moment. "I think you have to face it, Daria. We all have to face it. Look, I know the Morgendorffers are a little weird sometimes but give us some credit. And I think it's a good time right now for them both. Mom's relaxed, relatively, before she gets another killer case. Dad's got some steady, good clients and he's keeping fit. I think they're about to cry any minute when they think about us both going away to school. They'll be disappointed if you try to hide Kat from them. And Kat seems to be pretty out; it's not fair to her too, I think."

"When did my sister become so wise?" Daria asked. She looked around the explosive but well-organized, coordinated pink riot of Quinn's bedroom. "And still have such awful taste in decorating?" That brought on a short, enjoyable late-morning pillow fight.

Come Friday Quinn was ready with a with strong citrus based perfume, just right for a hot night of dancing she said. Daria was finishing Defoe in the living room. She had decided to give up trying to intercept her father from meeting her dates and Jake was puttering in the front yard as usual.

She had primed Helen and Jake for this event. During one supper one evening, Daria had mentioned to them as casually as she could that Kat was taking her dancing come Friday. Jake had frozen with a fork full of beef brisket on its way to his mouth. Helen had actually gone a couple shades whiter but she nodded gravely. Jake then managed a "That's great, kiddo." and the subject was never brought up again.

Daria was not sure if those responses boded well or ill. She had read several coming-out stories and realized that she had it better than many gay kids with their parents, so far anyway.

Now waiting for her date with a girl, Daria, oddly enough, felt no unease. She only wanted to see Kat again and restart their relationship.

Daria heard a loud purring pull up and silence itself in front of the house. She heard Jake's predictably excited voice address Kat. As the voices got louder as Daria stood and approached the door.

She heard Jake say something about ''good old Detroit Iron'' and Daria thought Kat was trying to sell the car to him in return. She smiled inside and let that play out a while longer before she suddenly threw the door open. Her father and her date both jumped but recovered quickly.

"Kiddo, you must be excited to meet your date," Jake said as he stepped aside to let Kat into the house.

Kat and Daria both scanned each other's face and eyes. They both broke into smiles: Kat's a warm, wide one and Daria's tiny Mona Lisa smile but it warmed Kat's heart nonetheless. The two girls hugged. Daria's tummy at last developed a swarm of Monarch butterflies as it came to her all at once. Here she was on the front step and hugging a woman who was her first girl date in front of her father. Kat did not seem to be the least bit nervous.

Jake had developed a sudden interest in the vegetation around the front of the house. "Lousy hosta, worse than squirrels."

Daria and Kat naturally held hands as they entered Manse Morgendorffer with Jake trailing.

"Daria," Kat said. "That's perfect clothes for retro-night dancing. They will ask you up on stage to jitterbug."

Jake looked on wistfully as he took in his daughter's 60s togs. "I remember when Helen wore that; it was the best thing her sister Amy ever gave her. We skipped a protest rally to go dancing. I remember the SDS leader was pretty mad but it was worth it."

Kat had turned out a worthy 60s dance outfit herself. A short burnt-orange dress with black collar hugged her trim frame. Tight, black stockings rose rose just over her knees. Her black flats were likely easier to dance in than Daria's boots.

"Here, someone told me I should bring you chocolates," she handed Daria a big box. Both found that funny.

"Quinn," she called upstairs. "I've got my chocolates."

Quinn came down for once not ready to go out for a dance.

"Oh, this is Quinn? So cute! I've heard many good things about you." Kat gave her a hug and Daria was surprised to see that Quinn seemed stiff and mechanically returned the hug.

"Oh, I love your dress, Kat! Is your pants suit in the cleaners then?" Daria wondered if she could take her sister upstairs for a quick, private smackdown.

Kat, mercifully, was merely confused. "Pant suits? What is that?"

"Never mind my little sister. She's just jealous we're going out on Friday night and she's studying."

"Oh good girl," Kat approved. "Keep studying. You will be freshman, no? Study more now so it will be easier when you get to university. Many boys you will be meeting later; you can forget them for the summer. What are you studying tonight?"

Daria noted that Quinn seemed to be listening to her advice.

"I'm catching up on all the weird books Daria reads. Tonight it's _The Bell Jar."_

"Kat, this is my Mom, Helen. Mom, this is Ekaterina Timofeyeva, but I know she would want you to call her 'Kat'," Daria made the introductions as Helen entered still in her usual high-power attorney suit. Helen was more animated in her hug than Quinn.

"Mrs. Morgendorffer," Kat began. "I see now where Daria gets her beautiful, red hair from."

"Why thank you Kat. And you have such-long-hair yourself." Helen said as if expecting something very different from Kat's long, dark-blonde hair.

"Well, you see me before next week, Helen. Next week I have most cut off for charity. Wigs for children who lose their hair to bad diseases."

"Oh, that's very generous, Kat." Helen and Quinn softened at that.

Quinn blanched when Jake proposed she go along with Kat and make a donation of her long, fiery hair.

"Oh Kat," Daria said. "Let me get my purse and then let's go."

When Daria came down Kat and Jake were geeking out on archery, both their eyes bright. Kat was giving Jake some finer point tips on hunting rabbits and squirrels. Helen and Quinn were looking on queasily as Kat described the best knives and methods to use to skin and dress out rabbits.

"My Daddy and I brought home lots of bunnies for Mom to make rabbit in sour cream. Oh, and rabbit in mustard! Such good Polish dish. You catch, Mr. Morgendorffer and we will cook with mushrooms for everyone."

Kat had won over Jake's heart by going through his tummy, Daria could tell.

Kat took her hand and walked her out to her big old Detroit iron. Jake followed to finish some yard work. Kat had the bench seat well back once again and Daria snuggled in. Before they could drive off, Daria stopped her and jumped out of the car.

On impulse she ran up to her father. "Thanks, Dad." she gave a surprised Jake a hug.

Jake ruffled her hair. "For?"

"Just...thanks."

Jake looked over her head at Kat. "You really know how to pick 'em, kiddo. But then, so does she. Have fun tonight. Don't worry about anything. If you need to stay...uh...well, just call if you need anything."

Daria made her joke again about Kat looking like an ape as she drove with the seat way back and her limbs stretched out. Kat laughed too but Daria could see her mouth was set and eyes glistening.

"Kat, what's up? Did my parents and Quinn scare you? They were actually on pretty good behavior tonight."

"You're so lucky," Kat said. "I miss Mom and Daddy so much."

"I got the impression they're...not here anymore but…"

"Almost two years now. Car accident. Drunk bastard...just like that."

"Oh, I'm sorry."

"Drunk bastard was rich. I got a lot out of him but never enough."

Kat glanced at Daria and forced herself to smile. As Daria returned it uncertainly at first both their smiles became more genuine.

"But tonight is a long way from that time. We're going dancing, Daria. It's what Mom...and Daddy would want. And, 'You who are young, be happy while you are young, and let your heart give you joy in the days of your youth.', that's what the Bible commands."

Daria made note of the catch in Kat's voice before she mentioned her father. Then both young women turned their attention only to each other as they drove along.


	8. Daria, Dance Sensation

Arrows Through Her Heart

_Chapter Eight: Daria, Dance Sensation_

Daria and related characters and situations are the property of Viacom / MTV Networks. This work is strictly for the entertainment of Daria fans and not for any monetary or material gain whatsoever. All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

"Mom was right again," Daria said more to herself than Kat. Kat had just turned onto the main highway and Daria realized that they might be driving for some time to get to the Groovy Cove, the location of which she did not know and which she had heard about for the first time when Kat had asked her to do dancing a few days past.

Kat drove carefully even though the road was quiet that Friday evening. She glanced at Daria and said, "Mom's often are. Right about what this time?"

"The aliens have hi-jacked my brain. I should have interrogated you mercilessly about this place before agreeing to go with you alone. So, Kat, what's this den of iniquity you're hauling me to? I expect to be sold into white slavery."

Kat afforded her another quick glance. "Ha! You are leaping without looking and with me too? Good. People need to be acting with more impulsivity these days. Everything is too planned. But to answer question: Groovy Cove is an 18 plus dance club. No booze or drugs allowed. Very strict they are on creating welcoming, safe—how you say it?—environment. "

"And two girls dancing together? Hopefully closely?" Daria slid a little closer on the big bench seat as least as far as the vintage shoulder and lap restraints permitted.

"Daria, half the girls there will be straight girls out for nice time with their straight girlfriends. In pairs? In parties? No one can tell. No one cares. No worries about it."

"Well, feel free to ravish me over a table to make your intentions clear to everyone." Daria said surprising herself and Kat too.

Kat leered at the road ahead. "Thanks for your go ahead."

Daria sucked her lower lip. "Kat, I'm seeing Jason and Trent too. Jason and I are going to an art gallery opening for a friend of his on Sunday. The next day Trent is showing me his workshop."

"And maybe chew some sinew?" Kat laughed. "Daria, you are truly either very truthful or very naive. I bet to say both. Daria, you are right to say I don't own you as crude as that may sound to me. Am I right to ask if I have a chance?"

Daria was not used to this kind of question. She had a feeling Kat was not used to this kind of situation either. She knew it was normal for singles to date more than one person at a time; she certainly had a fine example of dating polygamy living in her home. But she had only had one boyfriend and was so amazed that someone was willing and even eager to commit to her that she had no thoughts of dating anyone else while Tom Sloane was in the picture.

Now, of course, she was planning out dates with three people for the rest of the summer. Daria was certain they were all well aware of each other. In her brutal honesty she had just told Kat what Kat had guessed in anger on their disastrous first date. Jason and Trent were both very intelligent and she was sure they had picked up on the almost star-struck fascination she had shown with all three of them at their first meeting on the range. Daria fully intended make a disclosure to Jason and Trent but now Kat's question had brought up something new to consider: if she stated it outright would they start to see it as a competition? She definitely did not want anyone to fight over her. That had been Quinn's thing and she sensed even Quinn was getting sick and tired of it.

"Chance at what?" Daria stalled and berated herself for it.

"You are delaying, Daria." Kat said without annoyance. "Is okay. Maybe is stupid question. I am only a little older than you but I am more experienced, I see that. Means nothing really. I know you are fine, innocent girl. I had lovers for years. But those girls were just for sex. Good sex, oh yes, da da, good sex, but no one ever, ever, not one touch my heart. Maybe I am asking if my heart has a chance to be touched, if even it can be touched."

They drove miles in silence.

"Kat, I'm going to tell Trent and Jason I am dating other people too. But I...I don't want to get you in trouble if they suspect what you are."

"Oh Daria, you are innocent! I guess I thank you for protecting me. Daria, I think your mother, bless her, expected me to have short, spiky hair and wear ripped jeans and sweep you away on monster motorcycle. You can see I like to wear girly things, a little makeup and lipstick. Is not disguise. I like these things. But I am sure that Trent and that Jason know what sex I want to wake up next to on cold mornings. I don't tell for no reason but I don't keep it secret from anyone. If someone is unsure or wants to set me up with nice boy I tell them I am lesbian and ask for a nice girl introduction. They don't like it? I walk away, no argue. Is their problem."

"But think to protect yourself, Daria." Kat continued. "Each girl has to think when and what to tell whom."

More miles passed in silence.

"Your mother maybe would like me to show up as a scary butch dyke motorcyclist," Kat said. When Daria looked at her quizzically she continued.

"She is afraid I am recruiting Quinn," Kat stated. "Yes, this I've seen before. You told me and I can see Quinn likes pretty clothes, nice fashion. I think Quinn did like my dance dress."

"And if you had shown up all leather, chains and grease it would have driven Quinn away," Daria concluded as Kat nodded. "One less worry for Mom."

Daria made a decision and she stroked Kat on the shoulder. Kat was favored with a tiny, non-ironic smile when she glanced away from the road.

"Kat, basta."

"What is 'basta'? You are hungry?"

"Is what...It's what Quinn says when enough talking is enough. Basta. I just want to have a good time tonight. With you. Kat, remember when we were watching your charcoal burn down? I wanted something which I have to admit is pretty rare for me. At that moment what I wanted most of all was to make someone happy. You."

Kat grinned at the road. "Good, even great. And we are celebrating tonight. I've looked at the competition and I've looked at my improving scores. I am sure I can make the Olympic team, the good Saint be praised."

"Can I be your arrow girl in the Olympics too?"

Kat giggled. "If you wear the tight black jeans again, I am sure they will put you on TV prancing after my arrows. They will give your butt an endorsement deal from Levis." Kat earned a light smack on the arm for that.

"Prancing? Endorse my butt? Oh, I'll get you for that," Daria promised deadpan.

At last they turned into a paved parking lot which had seen better days. Daria realized that she had been so intensely focused on Kat that she had no real idea where they were. She glanced at the nondescript four-story industrial brick building in front of them and then looked more closely at the beginnings of the low skyline of a small city in the distance.

"Are we in Briarwood?" She asked mostly to herself. Kat nodded and killed the purring old engine.

"Stay there," Kat commanded as Daria was about to exit. Kat jumped out and ran to Daria's door. With a mildly dramatic flourish she opened Daria's door and held out her hand which Daria took as she got out.

"Why thank you, gallant sir. Chivalry is not dead." Daria deadpanned to a grinning Kat. Kat took her arm. Daria became self-conscious as a group of six or eight men and women about their ages approached in the half-full parking lot. They were talking excitedly and not paying any apparent attention to Kat and Daria.

Kat glanced at them then took Daria's face in her hands. Before a shocked Daria could respond Kat gave her a firm kiss.

"God, she kisses good. Everybody's watching." Daria thought as she melted in Kat's embrace. Her left leg rose and she stood on tiptoe to enjoy the kiss even more.

She was aware of the people parting around them and passing by. Then Kat broke the kiss and they stood for a moment looking into each other's eyes. The group was a few yards in front. Daria figured Kat had both enjoyed a surprise kiss and was putting her at ease. No one in the group had taken notice of two young women kissing.

The two walked hand in hand to a steel-clad door. Daria noticed above the door an as yet unlit neon sign announcing The Groovy Cove. Utilitarian concrete and brick steps with blackened steel railing led up to the door.

A white man and African-American woman sitting on folding chairs flanked the stairs. The man was slender and a few inches taller than Daria. He seemed to look around the parking lot like an alert cat watching the grass for mice. The woman arose as they approached.

"_Amazon."_ Daria thought as she came to full height. Jason Koenig would have had to look up to meet her eyes. '_Solid' _was Daria's second thought as she took in the woman's muscles rolling under blue jeans, tight white tee and sleeveless black leather vest.

"Hi, dearies," the female bouncer said in a surprisingly soft voice. "Here to do some dancing? Cover's ten bucks each tonight."

The parsimonious Daria was about to protest the high charge but Kat passed over a twenty quickly and smiled at the woman. "Maybe you come in later and give us dance lessons? No?"

The woman laughed and said, "Sounds wonderful but working tonight, you know, deary."

The man stamped their wrists with an intricate fairy done in lavender ink. He pressed a button on the railing and Daria heard the door click. Kat held it for her as she went in. The woman addressed another approaching group as 'dearies' as the door closed on her.

Kat led her through an anteroom with low ceilings and enjoyed Daria's small gasp as the ceiling opened up above them to a large chamber almost three stories high. Dance floors small and large were placed between tables. The place had gone to some trouble to live up to its name as patron tables were almost secreted among large stands of plants. There were tables and dance floors on different levels. Disco balls rotated and strobes flashed. The place had a decidedly more upscale feel than The Zon or McGrundy's, the places where Daria was used to seeing Mysik Spiral. A DJ on a platform high above the crowd was practicing his patter and playing music at a volume high enough to feel the beat but not overly loud.

Kat led her to a table near the largest dance floor. The place was filling up but only a few people were dancing as yet. Daria scanned the crowd and saw Kat was right to put her at ease. Couples were in a minority there. Most groups were at least four people and mixed gender. Only a few boys were dancing in a same sex grouping but plenty of girls were having fun with another girl or two.

"Ah," Kat said. "After long drive, I need to pee and I'm thirsty. Here, order us some drinks." She gave Daria a menu. "And they have good flatbread. That's almost pizza but not quite like Pizza Prince."

"Next time, we bring our own grease and sneak in Ultra Cola," Daria promised. "Kat, you got us in, let me buy the drinks."

Kat smiled and headed off as Daria opened the drinks menu to consider the cutesy names and multi-ingredients of most of the drinks, all non-alcoholic. Daria found herself considering carefully what Kat might like. She remembered the clean, pure bite of Kat's vodka and how Kat relished it. How replicate in a no-booze drink? She gave the waitress an order for apple-ginger sparkler for Kat and ginger-lime fizz for herself on the theory that those were some of the drinks with the fewest ingredients.

Daria noticed Kat laughing and talking to four or five girls and guys as she returned. The group passed by Daria's table smiling at her as they bid goodbye to Kat by name.

Daria arched an eyebrow at Kat. "You seem to know people here. Plotting my kidnapping, I assume."

Kat laughed lightly, "No, no. We all just met."

Then to Daria's higher arched eyebrow she explained. "Mom always said I was shameless flirt even as little girl. Leave me alone with twenty people who don't know each other and I will have everyone laughing, talking like old school chums in ten minutes, even the Swedish."

Daria was pleased when their drinks arrived and Kat pronounced hers "very good." Daria decided her ginger-lime concoction deserved making at home. They sipped their drinks, chatted and took in the growing crowd. Then Daria excused herself to use the facilities.

The music changed from light electronic to definite retro dance tunes as Daria walked back to Kat's table. "Hang on Sloopy" by the McCoys came on as more people got up to dance.

Kat looked up to see where Daria was and their eyes met. Kat's gaze and the music caused an instant adjustment to Daria's walk for Daria had not been completely truthful with Kat when she expressed self-doubt about her dancing ability. She had not lied either as deprecating her ability at anything physical had been such a long time habit that it too often came out as a default response.

Jane and Nathan's swing dancing in high school had looked like fun to Tom and Daria although they would have never admitted it. His parents liked her and in an effort to keep the Tom/Daria relationship going, they arranged for private dance lessons at their estate. Daria discovered she had something of a talent for dance. Re-discovered actually, since Daria had been a superior tap dancer before she had turned ten and a couple very public embarrassing falls made her swear off the practice and retreat even further into the shell she was constructing.

Talent was only a part of it. Not only did she move to the music but, more accurately, the music moved her. She had tried to express it differently in her diary but had given up. The hackneyed expression was just too simple and accurate to improve upon. She knew this song and this song moved her.

Her walk became a strut. Hands on hips she stalked the seated Kat. Kat put her hands to her mouth in happy astonishment as Daria stood before her and swung hips and arms to the music. An easy toss landed her white leather cap on the table near Kat's drink. Daria rolled her head flipping her thick auburn hair back then forward then to the side at the dance floor, a clear invitation to Kat to dance.

She turned and strutted off not looking back as an entranced Kat followed. Daria claimed the very center of the dance floor before turning and pursuing the helpless, delighted Kat. The two danced sometimes touching, sometimes Kat simply orbiting Daria like an adoring planet around its sun.

The DJ was playing an extended dance version and Daria was finding nuances in the tune which made her hips, legs, head, hair, arms move. At some point she noticed that clapping had been added to the music. She only had eyes for Kat swaying in front of her. At some point Kat simply stopped trying to keep up with her. Kat swayed and clapped, her beautiful Eurasian face displaying the loveliest smile Daria had ever seen.

At some point the music stopped. Daria danced out a few more necessary steps then stopped herself. To applause. And cheers. Daria looked around confused and realized that a wide circle had cleared around her and Kat. People were clapping and cheering.

And Daria was running off the dance floor through the parting crowd. She barely heard Kat's "Daria? Wait." She ran into the empty women's room and locked herself in a stall. She breathed heavily more in embarrassment then exertion.

The door opened. "Daria?" Kat called quietly. Kat walked quietly into the room, her flats softly lifting and falling on the tile floor. She stopped before Daria's stall.

"Hello, Daria's white boots. Is Daria in there too? Please, you tell her she can come out now."

Daria swung open the door and sheepishly stepped out. Kat gave her a gentle hug.

"Let's go back to our table. I get us more drinks. Then we definitely dance more!"

"But everyone will see me," Daria said unable to stop herself from sounding like a small child.

Kat laughed without malice. "Daria, world does not revolve around the Morgendorffer star. People dance with their friends now. And you make everyone so happy! Now people want to dance even more and better."

Kat led Daria by her hand to their table. A few people smiled and gave her a thumbs-up or other friendly gesture then turned back to dancing or talking with friends. They sipped fresh drinks and people-watched until Daria got restless and felt she could overcome any embarrassment.

"Come, Khongordzol, let's dance." Daria stood and took Kat's hand. Kat smiled happily as her Mongolian name rolled off Daria's tongue.

Kat and Daria danced nowhere near the center now. As in archery, Kat taught Daria new tricks and steps on the dance floor. Kat was easily the more experienced, technically proficient and polished dancer but a close observer might note that Daria was the more natural dancer. On slow dances the two were content to simply hold each other and sway looking deeply into each other's eyes for moments then Daria resting her head on Kat. The two girls were barely fitting any definition of dancing as they shifted weight from one foot to another in a slow rotation to music only they could hear.

Daria could feel something inside her melting, loosening—a tension she was not even aware of—as she held Kat's willowy form, as Kat guided her around the dance floor.

They danced to their hearts' content and left with most of the crowd at close to 1AM. As Kat started her car they both glanced shyly and slyly at each other.

"Can I spend the…" "Daria, how about you spend…" both began simultaneously and both giggled nervously.

"Hm…" Daria mused. "One disadvantage of living at home, I better call the 'rents once we get to your place."

She had to explain 'rents' to Kat who then nodded. "You have someone to be concerned about where you are. Good. But I know in this situation will be awkward."

They drove home with Daria seated in the middle of the long bench. The two girls talked about their goals and dreams. Kat wanted to teach Russian literature and language somewhere after her Olympic dreams were satisfied one way or another. Daria was looking at journalism and fiction writing although she confided that she and other Raft students and instructors were worried about what the expanding Internet might do to traditional print news magazines and papers. The trip to Kat's apartment seemed very short to Daria. Soon they were resting on her love seat.

Kat said, "Daria, I shower…no I shower alone now…and you call your, uh, 'rents." Kat smiled coyly as she left Daria alone at the telephone.

Daria sighed and dialed. "Hi, Mom. Yeah, it's me. No, I'm fine, sorry to call so late. I'm at Kat's place, no one kidnapped me. I'm, uh, I'm going to stay the night with…at Kat's. Kat has a pull-out…no, I mean I am staying the night. I promised I would tell you about something like this. No, Mom, I don't know…but I'll be careful, you know that. Oh? Glad you like Kat. Okay, I'll be home to get ready for work. Thanks. What? Yeah, I'm glad I called too. Love you too."

Daria breathed a heavy sigh of relief. She had informed her Mom who apparently was waiting up for her. And she had come perilously close but had avoided lying about the sleeping arrangements. Daria was perusing some archery magazines half-heartedly and listening to the sound of the shower. She wondered if she should or was expected to walk in on Kat. That sounded exciting but potentially dangerous and she would not take the chance. She went to the kitchen for water.

As Daria turned she voiced the softest, quietest "Eap" of her life. Kat stood across the room smiling slyly. Kat wore only blue bikini panties. Her long hair hung down over her breasts. When Kat was certain she had Daria's full attention she flipped her wet hair back revealing high, smallish breasts with surprisingly bright red nipples.

It was Kat's turn to stalk as she slowly and confidently approached an enraptured Daria. She took Daria's hands in hers. They stood looking into each other's eyes.

"Daria Morgendorffer."

"Ekaterina Timofeyva."

They savored each other's names and then giggled happily. Daria had rarely giggled innocently for years and the honest laughter was an unfamiliar sensation.

"I like being called 'Kat'. Is short and fun to say and hear. But I can't think of better name for you than 'Daria'. I love saying it. So right and beautiful."

Kat took her hand and led her to the bedroom.

"I should shower," Daria protested as they sat down on the bed.

"No, no," Kat said. "Tonight, I want you warm, hot. And the lights on bright and full too."

Daria's mouth opened and Kat moved in for the kiss. Like their first time in the apartment neither was hurrying. Each wanted to savor each moment.

Daria picked up a soft-bristle hair brush. Kat smiled as Daria sat behind her on the bed. She leaned back against the shorter woman. Daria brushed Kat's hair slowly while cradling Kat.

"Quinn gives her hair a hundred strokes a day. I thought it was a waste of time until I tried it. It feels so good."

Kat's hair dried quickly under Daria's brushing. She counted out precisely one-hundred and one strokes then gently pushed Kat to sit up straighter. As Kat turned Daria kissed her deeply.

"Just a second. Now I go shower. Sorry, some other time for all sweaty, hot and bothered, Kat. I feel all grubby."

She put a finger over Kat's open, about to protest mouth. Kat smiled and nodded and watched Daria's repeat a swaying strut out the room.

Daria showered quickly and efficiently, happy to clean and cool off her hot feet.

She took her time walking into the bedroom again. Kat saw her in white bikini panties and laid down holding her arms out wide. Daria jumped on the bed happily straddling Kat. She slid her body up until their nipples were rubbing.

Daria cooed happily and Kat almost purred as their nipples stiffened on each other's. Daria shivered and decided she could never get enough of Kat's nipples on hers.

The two kissed and embraced. Kat insisted on seeing Daria lick her nose and Daria, for once, was happy to be the performing monkey. Kat sucked happily on Daria's long tongue.

Daria giggled.

"What is so funny?" Kat asked.

"Jane hated sloppy kissers. I used to agree with her but that was before I started doing it...uhm...kissing I mean."

"You haven't had sloppy yet." Kat pulled her down for a long, deep kiss.

Daria stroked Kat's long thick hair. "So you're going to cut it next week?" she asked wistfully.

"Are you regretting already? Do you want me to keep it?"

"I would never ask you not to donate your hair. But I will miss it."

Kat smiled. "Lie back." She pushed Daria down supine on her bed. Daria looked up at her lover curious about what was coming next.

Kat sat on her heels, smiling mischievously. She began sweeping her thick, heavy hair over Daria's feet, swirling, waving, dipping up and down. Slowly Kat moved up Daria's legs sweeping her tresses back and forth.

Daria parted her legs and groaned as her lover's hair began to nestle and twine with Daria's pubic hair. Kat spent some time and attention using her hair to tease at Daria's vulva, a thousand tiny fingers stroking her.

Then Kat's hair was sweeping along Daria's tummy. Kat twirled the ends slowly into Daria's navel. Daria shivered, shook and trembled with sensations beyond ticklish. Kat moved up and teased Daria's nipples. Then Kat's hair was hanging on either side of Daria's face with Daria delighting in looking up to Kat's beautiful canted blue eyes.

She lifted her head for a kiss but Kat was teasing her. Kat darted her face down and kissed Daria's neck. Kat continued kissing her way down Daria's body. Daria had an idea where Kat's kisses were heading but she was more interested in feeling than ideas at the moment. Kat clearly was eager. She tried not to rush as she spent time licking around her lover's nipples then sucking each tenderly.

Kat dropped lower and circled Daria's tummy and navel with her tongue. Daria knew what was coming next but almost could not accept it when Kat pulled her legs apart and prostrated herself between Daria's legs. Kat took her time and spread out her hair over Daria's thighs. Daria raised her head to look down at Kat's head between her thighs. Kat's eyes were on her prize. Her fingers gently played with Daria, spreading her apart.

Daria lay back and gripped the sheets as Kat's warm, wet tongue began lapping and licking. Kat wiggled her head as she licked like the most delicious ice cream cone in the world was under her wide tongue. When Daria began to moan and writhe Kat concentrated on the center of Daria's pleasure. Daria's thighs closed around her head and Kat wrapped her arms around the auburn's thighs.

For Daria time stopped and ran faster simultaneously. Her back arched as she reached higher and deeper pleasures than she had ever been able to give herself. Her hips rolled. A slow low note cooed out of her as Kat brought her to an intense finish. Then she laid back panting and gasping.

Kat finished a few more licks then sat up. Daria raised her head to look at her lover. She almost giggled as she saw Kat sitting up and licking the back of her hand. She half-expected Kat to run the wet hand over her hair like a kitty grooming itself. Then Daria realized just what Kat was licking up and became a bit embarrassed.

No awkwardness on Kat's part showed. Her eyes were glowing with a strange light. She looked at Daria almost as if noticing her for the first time. Kat smiled, now a bit self-conscious.

Kat dimmed the lights. She extended herself along Daria's side. Daria tasted herself in their next kiss. The two lay quietly holding each other. Kat stroked Daria's nipples and along her tummy. Daria ran her fingers through Kat's hair.

Daria at last tried to find words. "Kat, that was wonderful. Oh, more than. But I don't, don't know if I'm ready to…"

Kat stopped her. "Daria, is not a payment. It's not exchange. I love pussy. Oh, I love licking woman, more than I can say. Thanks, Daria. That was great."

They shifted until Kat was holding Daria in her arms. After a moment she felt Daria shaking. She looked down.

"Daria? You are crying?"

"Yes." She said in a small voice as Kat held her tighter. "Ever since I can remember I knew I was different. Even when I was very young I started using those differences to drive people away, to make them leave me alone. Then Jane and Quinn change me a little...I start letting people in. Then, uh, this comes along. I think, 'Oh, great. Another way Daria has to make herself different. What's next? What is my psycho psyche going to surprise me with?' But...with you, Kat. It feels so good, so right."

Neither girl could say more. Kat turned off the lights and they fell into a deep sleep.

Daria awoke last. She found her clothes of the night before cleaned and laid out for her. She dressed and opened the door.

Kat was in the kitchen puttering about. She was dressed in a light-blue track suit with her hair secured back by two love-in-Tokyo hair beads.

Familiar smells of bacon and pancakes wafted to Daria's nose but...no coffee? She was calculating the route to the nearest coffee shop when Kat smiled at her and gestured to the table set with bacon, pancakes and fruit.

As she sat, Kat put a bowl of grey liquid before her. To Daria's questioning, dubious gaze Kat explained, "You already had Mongolian mutton dish. Now, this for you. Russians drink tea and Mongols drink milk tea. So much better than ishy, bitter coffee. I am giving you the full treatment too. There is hard cheese and millet softening up at the bottom. Drink, eat, Daria. You look sleepy. See? American breakfast and Mongolian milk tea."

"Millet?" Daria asked. "Like bird seed?"

Kat laughed. "Yes, my little chickadee. Millet but not like bird seed. I get it from the co-op down the block. Clean, organic millet for people."

Kat took a long, clearly satisfying sip. After a couple sips Daria concluded milk tea worked fine as a pick-me-up but she determined to make her way to a coffee shop as soon as she was out of her Kat's lair.

Daria was worried about how to handle this new situation for her, morning after breakfast with a lover. But the two talked and teased each other with ease. Daria found she could tease Kat and make her laugh without her habitual snark and sarcasm.

Daria insisted on cleaning up after breakfast while Kat got her tackle ready. She helped Kat load her gear and sighed in resignation of an evening mixing and scooping nuts. At least Jodie would be there for company. The two drove to Manse Morgendorffer in a comfortable silence.

Daria gave Kat a quick smooch on the cheek. She found it easier to get out of Kat's big car on the second exit executed in front of the Morgendorffer house.

Kat called her back softly as Daria turned towards her front door. She leaned in the open passenger window. Kat was looking down at the floor and slowly brought her shining eyes up to meet Daria's.

"I think, I think my heart has a chance." Kat dropped her eyes for a moment.

"I know, I know it does," Daria favored her with a small smile. As she stood up she felt an unfamiliar sensation on her face.

"_I must be more tired than I feel. Get some lunch then a nice, very hot bath before work. Oh, and coffee!"_

She cringed as Kat honked just as Daria opened the door. Daria was hoping to make a quiet entrance although she knew she would have to face the family sooner or later. She steeled herself for the meetings and potential interrogations.

Quinn arose from a comfy chair in the living room, dropping a book to the floor. Daria knew she was waiting for her as Quinn preferred the pinkness of her room for study.

"Hi Daria," Quinn began as cautious as she was curious. Daria met her gaze and she saw Quinn smile broadly as her eyes widened.

"Mom, Dad, come quick," Quinn turned and called to the kitchen. Daria wondered at Quinn's apparently happy surprise. Chairs were being scraped back in the kitchen.

"Daria's back?" Helen called. "Is she okay?"

"Mom! Daria...she's…she's grinning."


	9. Judas-kissed Daria

Arrows Through Her Heart

_Chapter Nine: Judas-kissed Daria_

Daria and related characters and situations are the property of Viacom / MTV Networks. This work is strictly for the entertainment of Daria fans and not for any monetary or material gain whatsoever. All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead is purely coincidental.

"At least they didn't call it the Kitty Kat Klub," Daria quipped trying to keep down an uneasy feeling as she and Kat stood on the street and regarded the coiled, threatening, flashing neon cobra and faux Chinese script proclaiming The Cobra Cavern. Relying on intuition was unfamiliar to Daria but she was more than willing to follow that small voice which was telling her to speed-walk in the opposite direction. She turned to her girlfriend who also seemed to be uneasy or at least nervous and fidgety.

"Kat, how about we just go back to your place? Or even my house. Mom and Dad would love to talk to you. I promise they'll be good. We can watch a really bad movie in my room like Jane and I used to do. Oh, I know. We can listen to Quinn read poetry. How about_The Rime of the Ancyent Marinere? _She gets the pauses and inflection all wrong. It's actually pretty funny."

Daria put a hand on Kat's jean-covered butt and attempted to guide her away, back to Kat's car. Giving Kat's tight jeans a few pats was a fun distraction but it did little to lessen her sense of dread. Daria never indulged in public displays of affection; she realized she must nearly be desperate.

"Nonsense, Daria." Kat said. "You are writer. Should be open to new things and overcome any fear. You liked The Groovy Cove. This place is same but so different. Come, we go inside just for one half-hour. If you don't like it after that we leave for your place. We can talk to your 'rents and listen to Quinn recite comic verse then."

Kat seemed to find more conviction than what sounded in her voice as she wrapped Daria's arm around her waist. That contact alone prevented Daria from amending Kat's assessment of Coleridge, apt on Quinn's tongue though it might be.

The bouncer took their cover charges. Daria was sure the man was the same short bouncer as at the Groovy Cove but in the dim light she could not be certain and he gave no sign of recognition. It was, she reflected, good at least to get off the wet street and out of the gusts of another unusually cold evening that summer.

The rain had held off that afternoon while they were at the range. Following Daria's treat at the Pizza Prince Kat proposed another dance outing, this time at The Cobra Cavern. Kat's old sedan had gone the opposite way but about as far from Lawndale as the site of Daria's acclaimed performance at the Groovy Cove. Daria had been nominally more observant on this trip and had noted a couple signs cheering on the Oakwood Taproots athletic teams before they pulled into a street parking spot in front of a squat industrial building.

They had both concentrated on their archery at the range. Daria once again fetched Kat's arrows as she noted that Kat had improved her accuracy

Kat's dancing proposal seemed spur-of-the-moment but Daria also noted that Kat was nervous as they traveled in silence. Daria would have called Jane Lane on her nervousness immediately and demanded an answer. She was surprised that she was reluctant to feel Kat out. _"Is this what having a lover means?" _she thought. _"You have to be on pins and needles so you don't offend her? I never cared about offending Tom about anything. Am I in deeper with Kat? Do I trust her-or myself-less? Do I value her more than Tom?" _Looking at Kat driving in her usual way-back seat position Daria knew the answer to the last question and at least one other was a firm 'Yes' if she knew nothing else.

Daria was thankful too that she had some quiet time to think in the car. True to her word she had told Jason and Trent that she was dating among the three of them. And true to her paranoid tendencies, she expected the both of them to dump her immediately. Neither had which was a relief, a surprise and grounds for further angst for Daria.

"Trent and Kat," Jason contemplated. "I could tell on the range you had a thing for both of them but I'm a little surprised you're admitting to dating Kat. Don't worry, I won't tell anyone. I'm glad you can tell me but give me some time, Daria; I need to think about this. I don't know if I really want to compete."

Jason took a moment to think. "But the prize is certainly worth it."

Daria had not considered asking Jason to keep Kat a secret. She knew Kat did not care who knew about her preferences. Did she? She had tried to assure him dating was not a competition in her eyes but his assessment had gone as she feared it would.

"Jason and Kat. Kat and Jason." Trent mused. "You sure know how to pick 'em, Daria. Can't think of anybody else in this boring 'burb who's worth it for you, 'cept me of course."

Trent paused and took her hand there in his workshop. "Maybe we went too far on our first date but, Daria, you made me so damn excited. Look, I haven't had many girlfriends but right now I want to date only you, at least until this, uh, this thing works itself out and if it doesn't go, uh, my way."

He smirked. "No pressure on you, of course."

Kat took her hand as they passed through the door. She led Daria through the dim anterooms. A waitress dressed like a devil or cobra or some combination escorted them to a table. Daria could not help but lock her attention on the waitress' butt bouncing in her short French maid/cobra/devil costume. She was aware of her admiration for the girl's long legs in tight red fish-net stockings; a few weeks ago would she have admitted where her gaze went?

Kat's hand was clammy in hers. Daria could not hold her comments and curiosity any longer as they sat down at a table just off the main dance floor.

"Kat," she demanded. "Are you okay? You're jumpy and nervous. What's going on?"

Kat nearly jumped as Daria asked her. "No, no, I'm fine. Well, maybe nervous about my scores. Maybe target panic creeping up as I get closer to the qualifier. Do you think I'm getting better, Daria?"

"Yeah, you're getting better," Daria said honestly and appeased for the moment. "You said so yourself and I can see it too. To fight the yips-Dad used to say that in golf-I can get Quinn to stand in front of the target. You can shoot all around her. I'd pay to see that."

"Only if I can teach Quinn how to throw the knives and the hatchets at you," Kat laughed more at ease. "I need to use the little girl's room-ha! somebody at work taught me that. Here, pick out drinks for us."

"I'm sure a swanky place like this serves alcohol," Daria picked up a drink menu and scanned it and her dimly lit surroundings.

Kat chuckled. "Hah, they wish. They perpetually lose their license for serving booze to kids in your sheriff's sting operations. But the city likes the drunkard's tax revenue so place always gets license back quickly."

Daria made her non-alcoholic drink choices to a waitress whose low-cut top caught Daria's attention in a way which now embarrassed her._ "Maybe I was better off when I stared at nipples without knowing I was doing it."_

It took an iron act of will not to watch the waitress walk away. Instead, Daria cleaned her glasses and checked out her surroundings more closely. A lot of black and red and dark greens and yellows she noted with approval. Like The Groovy Cove there were dance floors and tables at different levels with a DJ above the crowd. The tables were separated by black wrought-iron trellises with plastic greenery obscuring the patrons from one another.

"_The Zon and McGrundy's are honest dives," _Daria speculated. _"This place is desperately trying to be an upscale dive." _She was beginning to be intrigued by the pretentiousness of the place trying to look inviting and dark and dangerous at the same time.

A few people were dancing she noted as Kat sat down. A couple surprised, delighted squeals drew their attention to the nearest dance floor. Five people were on the floor but only two dancing. One white man was gently but insistently pushing a short blonde woman towards a tall black woman who stood opposite them. The black woman had her own encouragement in the form of two white guys who stood behind her. The two women danced close for a few moments then broke apart, giggling as they fled back to their men. The men ineluctably closed the distance between them and pushed the women forward until the two danced touching and holding each other closely. The women looked happy, surprised and drunk; the men's faces were studies in triumph.

The arrival of their drinks brought Daria's attention back to their table. She turned to Kat who nodded. "See, Daria? This is good material for book and poem, no?"

Daria's comment caught in her throat as Kat glanced around furtively and then poured a long slug of clear liquid from a small silver flask into her drink.

"Kat? You need vodka that much?"

"Not need," Kat affirmed after a hard pull of her drink. "I want after a hard work week. Thanks for your concern. I'm fine. A little alcohol in moderation is good for people."

"Well, okay," Daria allowed. "But if you get any more moderated than one drink I'm driving home. If your car bench isn't rusted stuck all the way back."

Daria had not seen any evidence that Kat had a drinking problem but she wasn't sure if she could recognize any signs. She made a note to watch Kat's flask hand closely.

Daria needed to relax herself, she realized. She took her own long pull off her drink.

"Wow, that is really yummy," she said. "Almost makes up for the atmosphere around here." She took Kat's hand.

"Kat, I think a half-hour is enough to get the flavor of this place. Let's go back to my house then and Quinn can amuse us by reading doleful 18th century poetry."

She paused, "After we bribe the waitress for this recipe." She sipped again.

"Deal," Kat said, her eyes looking into Daria's sincerely then beginning to flit around The Cobra Cavern. Daria thought Kat was watching the waitresses as attentively as she was. She found that amusing and jealousy-inducing all at once.

Daria's mouth fell open and she sat up straighter as she saw a girl who seemed familiar walking towards them from the rest rooms.

"Tiffany?" she gasped to herself as the Asian girl passed obliviously a few feet from their table.

Daria followed her bare brown legs in impossibly short red velour mini-dress as Tiffany sprinted down a few steps. She sat at a table with a couple of men. Kat looked too as Daria stretched her neck and twisted around to observe the table without being seen.

Daria's mouth went dry as the two men turned almost at cue to give her a better look.

"Trent? Jason?" she croaked.

The two were laughing and seemed a good deal chummier than she had picked up on at the range. Jason picked up a drink and poured a shot into Tiffany's mouth. Tiffany licked spillage from chin and cheek and giggled happily.

Daria turned to Kat. "Is Trent and Jason," Kat said needlessly without taking her eyes off the trio.

Trent stretched out his long fingers and took Tiffany's hand. He pulled her up and she willingly, instantly plopped herself down on his lap. Jason was not in the least put out; he leaned over. Tiffany and Jason met each other in a kiss as Tiffany squirmed herself on Trent's lap. A few moments later Trent picked up her and obligingly deposited her on Jason's lap from which she repeated a kiss on Trent. Jason plopped a ludicrously large red foam cowboy Stetson on her head. Tiffany let out a whoop loud enough for Kat and Daria to hear and wince at.

"I think I've had enough, Kat. Let's go." Daria said still deadpan as she turned toward her date. Daria glanced down at the table.

"After I finish this yummy drink." She sipped faster than she wanted now. Thoughts were swimming in her head and she gave voice to one of her worst.

"Kat, did you know they would be here?"

"Daria!" Kat's eyes grew wide in surprise and annoyance. "No. You are more suspicious than Stalin-aged Russians. Come, we go."

Kat took her cold hand and led her out. At the door a middle-aged guy jostled Kat.

"Sorry, fella," he slurred at her as he stumbled into the door then recovered. She swore at him in Russian.

They sat in the big, old car for moment before Kat started the engine.

"Men, such pigs. Is one reason I am a lesbian. That and I love pussy so much."

"Not fashionable," Daria said.

"What?"

"Not fashionable. Her velour or velvet or whatever. She, that girl, Tiffany, and Quinn were fashion-Nazis in school. They would tell everyone who would listen, and everybody who wouldn't, that velvet was soooo not stylish."

Kat drove along carefully and mercifully did not dwell on what they had witnessed. Kat prattled a bit about her office, archery; other topics which she probably thought would take Daria's mind off the spectacle. Daria could only half-listen.

Tiffany? Five-dates-before-you-can-touch-me Tiffany? How many dates equaled squirming your ass on two guys' laps with a side of sloppy kisses? Daria wasn't sure she cared. Two hours ago she would not have cared if Tiffany had simultaneously put out for a carload of circus clowns. But Tiffany was Quinn's friend and business partner and Daria knew Quinn very much cared about her friends.

Was it just because Tiffany was with Trent and Jason? Daria had told them each no more than a week past in no uncertain terms that she did not consider her relationships with them to be exclusive. Even with Trent's declaration what should she expect?

Daria put her elbow on the window frame of Kat's big, old Detroit iron. She put her chin on her hand and stared at the dark trees passing by.

Kat walked her up to the door. They stood under the front step light.

"Kat, it's not that late. Do you still want to come in? I think I'd like that."

Kat smiled and nodded in assent. A few minutes later they were sitting in the living room talking to Helen and Jake, Quinn having gone to Stacy Rowe's house to watch a movie.

Watching Kat win over Helen Morgendorffer distracted Daria from thoughts of The Cobra Cavern. Kat sat at complete ease as Helen did what she did best and what Daria had feared: grilled her like a hostile witness. After an hour or so Helen and Kat were conspiring to take Daria shopping for new clothes for the new school year with Kat speculating which colors and patterns other than plain black, green and yellow suited Daria best.

Helen escorted her daughter's date to the door then amazingly left them alone outside to say goodbye.

"Okay," Daria said. "I didn't see it but you must have slipped some potent vodka-based magic spell into Mom's coffee. I've never seen anyone handle her like that before."

"Oh, Daria," Kat laughed. "Is not handling anyone. I really must give you lessons in innocent flirting sometimes. It isn't to hurt anyone and it can make life easier and more fun."

They moved closer for a goodnight kiss. Kat held her.

"Are you okay, Daria? I did not expect we would see...that tonight."

"Yeah, I'm okay. I might go hold my eyes under cold water to wash away the sight."

She paused. "But first I need to talk to Quinn."

Daria broke the embrace as her sister came up the walk. Kat chatted with them for a few moments before excusing herself to go home. Kat promised a confused Quinn that she would return some night to hear her recite comic English verse. Quinn and Daria went upstairs to get ready for bed.

"It was Tiffany, wasn't it, Quinn?" Daria asked without preamble as she stood in Quinn's open bedroom door.

Quinn pushed her glasses up on her forehead before putting down her book and regarding Daria.

"Was Tiffany what?" Quinn flashed realization then. "Oh, yes. I thought you were maybe with Tiffany when you were parked out front with Kat that first time. Seems so long ago now, doesn't it?" No giggles this time. Quinn was serious and could sense Daria's more than usual stone cold somber mood as well. Quinn sat up on her bed and pulled her legs up to her chest as Daria sat at her computer desk.

"In fact, sis, I have to admit," Quinn continued. "I kinda hoped it was Tiffany. For the both of you, I kinda wished it was her and you together." Quinn looked up to gauge Daria's reaction but could see no impact to her statement.

"It's crazy." Quinn went on. "It's crazy, I know. I thought it would maybe slow Tiffany down and bring you out of your shell. I even thought of introducing you and Tiffany in, uh, that way. You two are honestly so important to me but I don't have much experience with, uh, people like you. I thought of fixing you two up but I didn't know how and then you were so infatuated with the three archers."

Daria ignored the 'people like you' comment since she was still getting used herself to people like her. The sisters were quiet until Quinn asked, "So how did you figure it out? I mean that I thought you and Tiffany might be making out in this honking old car in front of our house."

Daria told her of seeing Tiffany and Trent and Jason together obviously as more than business partners or simply friends. She spared no details of what she saw or her reactions and that she had intuited that Tiffany was Quinn's suspect the first night she was with Kat. Quinn seemed to shrink with each word. When there was no more to say they sat in silence again.

Quinn sat up straighter and again broke the silence, "I'm glad it was only two guys." Quinn's eyes were glistening and heavy but no tears fell.

Daria sat beside her as Quinn continued.

"You know she's adopted, of course. Of course, we never cared about it in the fashion club. It just made her cooler in a way and we had another skin tone to accessorize for. Well, about a year ago Tiffany started opening up to Sandi and Stacy and me about her adoptive parents. She was only about one when her parents, uh, got her from a Vietnamese orphanage in Hong Kong. They don't really know her age. She might even be as old as you, Daria."

"Anyway," Quinn caught a breath. "Tiffany thinks the only reason her Mom and Dad adopted her was to save their marriage way back then. I don't know why. And now they're fighting all the time and she thinks they want to divorce when she goes to Pepperhill with me in the fall. Daria, she thinks she wasn't good enough to save their marriage. That's it all her fault!"

Quinn paused and gathered her thoughts.

"And Daria, at the start of our senior year she figured out by herself that she was bisexual. Nobody had to tell her." Quinn paused a bit longer than Daria thought necessary to let that sink in.

"She came out to us right away. The Fashion Club was okay with her, of course. We even amended the five-date rules for any girls she dated and only for girls-provided her girlfriends had good fashion sense, of course. And she was fine at first. She said she just wanted to find one nice girl to be with. She quietly dated a couple girls from school-I can't tell you who. Then this trouble with her parents started and Daria, she turned into a...a…"

Daria could think of a couple names for Tiffany but she let Quinn come up with what Quinn thought the best.

"A skank! A total slut." Quinn sobbed but still held in the tears. "I don't know...I think she thinks her only value now is an exotic little Asian toy for whoever wants to...to…oh God, fuck her. At first her mom and dad were totally upset about her dating girls but now her parents give her whatever she wants...they fight for her attention with money and presents. Her dad's a big car dealer, you probably didn't know that. I thought that loud, old car was her idea of a joke or something."

Quinn turned on her side and continued to hug her knees. The sisters were silent. Daria gently stroked Quinn's side as Quinn breathed heavier but still could not cry.

"What if some sleazy guys really hurt her? Or she gets some ishy, incurable STD? Daria, we don't know what to do. Sandi and Stacy and I really do love her. But we don't know what to do."

Quinn sat up and the tears flowed. She cried soundlessly, any sobs and wails having been spent long ago. Daria hugged her sister and gently rocked her as Quinn settled into her side.

"You're doing the only thing you can, Quinn," Daria opined. "She knows you don't approve but you love her. Unless you let Jane and Kat and me kidnap her and put her in a nunnery there's nothing else you can do."

Daria got up as Quinn nodded and ran out of tears. Daria moved to the door.

"I'm sleeping here tonight, Quinn. I think we both need us together."


	10. Nock, Draw, Loose:Warrior Princess Daria

Arrows Through Her Heart

_Chapter Ten: Nock, Draw, Loose: Warrior Princess Daria_

Daria and related characters and situations are the property of Viacom / MTV Networks. This work is strictly for the entertainment of Daria fans and not for any monetary or material gain whatsoever. All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Daria's boots crunched on the gravel of Lawndale's archery range parking lot as she got out of her small car. A breeze blew her hair over her eyes as she looked closer to verify the vehicles near her. She was not much of a car person but Jason's candy-apple red Ferrari and Trent's old tan and white VW van were unmistakable. She had not stalked the range but had to admit to driving by a few times looking for one or both of their vehicles before finding them together on this bright, warm morning.

"_I'm not a stalker," _she told herself. _"I just have to talk to them. It's not fair to them or me if I don't." _

She wondered just what she was going to say. She had practiced a dozen things in her head, but in this summer of uncharacteristic actions, Daria again was acting without a plan.

"_Just say it's over. 'It's over guys, sorry. Thanks for the arrows, Trent. Thanks for the necklace, Jason. I just gave the necklace to my cousin and the arrows to Dad's buddy, but thanks anyway. I just can't date guys who team-molest a little Asian girl, even if the girl isn't so little and she's asking for it. That's just me, I guess.' Yeah, that's pretty good, go with it."_

Daria forgot her own archery tackle as she started down the tree-shaded path, practicing her little speech in her head. Maybe she should just go home. She and Quinn had told their father an unexpurgated version of events at The Cobra Cavern. It had taken Daria and Quinn all their persuasive power and begging to keep Jake from stalking out the range himself and doing whatever an enraged Jake was capable of doing.

"Just ignore the assholes, kiddo," Jake finally advised his almost-unheard of swearing catching them both by surprise. "They're not worthy of my little girl."

Maybe she should take that advice but she found herself walking down the path to the range proper. A few early risers were out wrenching on their compound bows. Jason was sitting on a picnic table, his back to Daria and facing a standing, jovial Trent. Both seemed chummier than she remembered from her first encounter with them at this range. Sharing toys brought boys together she thought.

Neither was noticing her as Daria stopped and drew herself up to full height.

"I still can't believe she…" Daria heard Trent proclaim then he paused as he saw her.

"Oh hi!" Trent addressed her, surprised but recovering well. Jason stood up fast and turned to give her an innocent smile.

The two six footers took a cautionary step back as the slim five-foot, two-inch auburn-haired girl rounded the table.

"Oh hi," she said. "Go to hell!"

She somehow managed to slap both men soundly with one swat.

"Ow, what the fuck!" Jason exclaimed backing away. Trent stood his ground a moment until Daria pummeled away at his arms. They managed to get the picnic table between them and Daria as she paused.

"How could you!? How could you? How could she? No, never mind her. She can take care of herself. No wait; she's my sister's best friend. You both stay away from her."

The last was said in icy rage as some quiet part of Daria's mind reflected on the scene. _"Wow, I've never slapped a man before. Felt good, but they're still standing. Harder next time. Hey, it's true. When you're madder than hell, all you see is red behind everything."_

Jason was a study in outraged innocence. Trent, she thought, at least had the decency to start to look scared and guilty.

"What the hell are you talking about, Daria?" Jason tried.

"Jason, you idiot, it's over," Trent told him slowly. "Daria, I'm sorry. I blew it."

Jason gave up. "How the hell do you know what happened and why do you care anyway? You think you're so special and worth waiting for? You think I'm going to wait around to get some seconds after you get tired of Kat munching your carpet?"

That was enough for Daria. She shook her head and repeated, "It's over."

It was enough for Trent too. He gave Jason a disgusted look and sank to the ground, sitting there on the wet wood chips and gravel. He held his head. "I'm sorry, Daria. I really blew it."

Daria turned to leave and there was Kat coming up on them with a worried expression. It was a repeat of her first encounter with Kat with a couple additions. A hot, fuzzy red blanket hung behind everything in Daria's sight. And Kat's hair was shorn to a severe pixie cut, the studiedly jagged blonde bangs calling attention to her canted blue eyes and high cheekbones.

"Kat, please, no practice today. Let's get out of here. I'll buy you tea somewhere."

"Daria, I…" Kat looked down at the wood chips.

"Kat, what is it? Are you okay?"

Kat bit her lip. "Daria, I...I knew Jason would be there...at the Cobra that night. I overheard him tell person at this range. I knew in that bad place he would do something bad. I trapped him. And you. Then I was so happy to laugh and talk with your 'rents. Next day I couldn't stand myself then. I confessed my priest. He said I had to tell you to feel I was truly forgiven by God. Please, please forgive me. He said if I thought Jason would not hurt me in anger I should tell him too."

"Bitch." Jason said and turned to tinker with his wheel bow.

Kat sobbed, her tears coming with ragged, rough coughs. Daria's blood stopped and then ran cold after her hot fury.

"Kat, you were my first." she said and she could not think of anything more to say and Kat could not have been more hurt by any other words.

Daria turned on the heels of her high, hard boots, ignoring Kat's raspy sobs and Trent's continued repetition of various strains of "I blew it." Archers scrambled to get out of her way; no one meeting her eyes as she trampled the gravel.

"I'm shooting here," she snapped at a guy on a twenty-yard lane. She needed to burn off some energy by pulling her bow and loosing a few arrows. .

"But you don't even have…" he began then blanched and slunk away under her glare. Daria stomped her boots, swung her arms and growled in frustration as she realized that, indeed, she had not one piece of archery tackle with her.

Daria's boots kicked and stamped the wood chips forming the path back to her car. Her eyes glanced aside and she saw semi-familiar mushrooms in a clearing just off the path. Lawyer's wigs, shaggy manes.

She stamped down a desire to trample them with her high, hard boots. She picked her way through the light brush until she was reaching down in the clearing to gather the long, furry white domes.

A flash of blue further into the trees caught her eye. Carefully checking for poison ivy she stepped farther into the woods to a clearing spread with waist-high white daisies and blue wild irises.

"_White and blue flowers on a sunny day in the woods,"_ she paused and looked around her. She breathed deeply.

Common white daisies, a little girl's flower for putting in her hair or to bring home to mother. All Daria needed and wanted just then was to bring her father mushrooms and give flowers to her mother. Choosing carefully the best blossoms, she twined and set daisies and irises into her dark red hair. On the way out of the woods she gathered as many mushrooms as she could carry in her arms.

More than one archer felt there was something different and special about that day when he passed a young woman with white and blue flowers twined through her auburn hair. Quinn smiled a sincere, inscrutable Mona Lisa smile as she helped Daria arrange the flowers on their formal dinner table. The sisters made dinner together that night with few words and served it to their parents.


	11. Quinn and Daria Win the Game

Arrows Through Her Heart

_Chapter Eleven: Quinn and Daria Win the Game_

Daria and related characters and situations are the property of Viacom / MTV Networks. This work is strictly for the entertainment of Daria fans and not for any monetary or material gain whatsoever. All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. Credits to RUSH for the paraphrase from the first line of _The Necromancer._

Daria was running down the middle of the street headed for home. _"When did they paint stripes down the street?" _she wondered as her boots rapidly stamped up and down on the white lines.

Daria noted that she had no concern with being run down by cars as she sped along, houses moving by at a clip which even running star Jane would have admired. _"I should get on the sidewalk or to the left side of the road at least."_ It seemed she could not move to either side as the bright white lines were trampled under her boots.

She got to her house and made a crisp, quick ninety-degree turn up her sidewalk to the front door. Despite having run for some distance she was not winded in the least.

She stood in the foyer of Manse Morgendorffer and looked around. "Mom? Dad? Quinn? Jane?" Daria called as she thought she heard noises upstairs. No answer.

Her heavy boots came off and she took the stairs two at a time in her high white stockings. Indistinct voices came from her room. _"Jane's here!" _Daria thought happily. Even with her detente with Quinn, Daria could not think of anyone but Jane who would dare enter her room without permission. _"But who's with her? Trent?"_

Daria opened her door and stepped in hoping to see Jane comfortably sitting on her bed or even with easel and canvas in the middle of the room.

She gasped and stumbled back a step as she saw Tiffany standing by her computer table. Tiffany wore only a tight red velour tee which ended just above her navel. The half-naked Tiffany faced Daria full on and smiled a slow, wide smile. She held a long, black steel chain in each hand. At the ends were collars and in the collars were Trent Lockher and Jason Koenig, both naked and raptly looking at Tiffany.

Daria nearly choked as she took all this in. She wanted to leave, to run down the stairs and out to the street and down the street on the fresh white center lines until she reached Jane's house. She would wait on Jane's front step for however long it took until Jane Lane came home.

She was frozen in place. Daria could not move as Tiffany continued to regard her and smile her slow, wide grin. "You're just in time, Daria," Tiffany drawled. "I have one for each of us. Or both for you. These boys will do just whatever I want." Tiffany sat down at the end of Daria's bed and spread her legs wide.

Daria wanted to look away or at least close her eyes but it was as if someone had a firm hold on her head keeping her looking at Tiffany. Her eyelids would not obey her commands to close. Daria's gaze locked between Tiffany's legs.

Tiffany gave a couple jerks on the chains. Trent and Jason dropped to their knees and crawled forward, each intent on being the first to put his face between her legs.

"You want to get down there too, don't you?" Kat asked as she stepped up on Daria's right. Daria gasped as she saw the fiendish, demonic look twisting Kat's beautiful Eurasian face.

"No, no," she found her voice.

Kat shook her head and bared her teeth in a horrible grin. Kat wrapped a hand in Daria's hair and forced her to look back at Tiffany. The men had disappeared but not Tiffany's smile. Tiffany was bouncing a ball of ragged black yarn in one hand. Smoky red flashes flickered over the surface of the ball.

"Come heeere," Tiffany said slowly. She rapidly snapped the ball at Daria's head. Daria tried to jerk away but the ball hit her forehead and thick, cold, wet strands wrapped around her head. It formed a damp, dripping collar around her neck. Tiffany held a black strand stretching from her hand to Daria's throat.

Tiffany twisted the yarn around her fist slowly reeling Daria in. She stumbled forward, fighting every inch but unable to get free or hold her ground. The yarn cage was tight and clammy on her head. She clawed at it with her left hand.

Daria jerked upright in bed, left hand dug into her sweat-soaked hair. She choked and gasped and realized she was spitting and drooling onto her shirt.

An insistent pounding started on her door. "Daria! Daria? Are you okay?" Quinn did not wait for an answer; she came into Daria's room carrying a lit candle. She set it down by Daria's computer then sat on the bed holding her panting, trembling sister.

"Only...only a dream." Daria got out.

"Only a dream?!" Quinn said. "I hope to heaven I never have a dream like that! Look at you, Daria. Your hair is all sweaty. And your shirt." To her credit Quinn stifled the 'eww' that almost escaped her mouth as she realized she was getting Daria's spit and sweat and tears on her baby-doll nightgown.

Daria gained some composure as the dream mercifully faded in intensity from her mind. When her breathing evened out she asked, "Quinn, could we go outside? Just sit on the patio?"

Quinn considered this, "Sure, I guess. It's a warm night, finally, and no wind. And we live in like the most boring, safe suburb in the USA. We could both use some air, I guess. Let's change jammies first though."

Quinn left the candle with Daria. She returned from her room a couple minutes later in cute pajamas emblazoned with adorable, cuddly teddy-bears. Daria had wadded up her sweaty Mark Twain shirt and tossed it into the hamper. She put on an almost identical black shirt with Einstein tongue-out on the front.

Quinn took the candle and led the way stopping to let Daria wash her face. The two sisters padded downstairs and through the empty house out to the backyard patio. They sat silently on padded chairs under a starkly white half-moon, each wrapped in her thoughts. Quinn blew out her candle when moths began to flit around it. They hardly noticed its absence as the moon took up the slack. They sipped at bottles of mineral water.

Quinn broke the silence, "Daria?"

Daria grunted, "Uhm?"

"Do you think," Quinn started uncertainly. "Do you think Mom and Dad's marriage is okay?"

Daria turned her head to see Quinn looking down at the patio stones. "Yeah, Quinn, yeah, I think they're doing fine. Yeah, I'm sure of it."

"But they're off on another 'intimacy weekend session.' Daria, all that counseling? Something must not be right. Are they going to stay together when you and I leave for school in the fall? Oh, I would stay home forever to keep them together...but maybe that's not right either. I mean maybe I should go to Pepperhill and they can have the house to themselves to work it out. And we both need to leave the house, right? That's what kids do when they grow up, right?"

Daria could not help but give a short, barking laugh. She hoped it sounded encouraging but she thought she needed to add some explanation.

"Okay, little sister, you think you're the only observant one? Sure, they've gone for counseling in the past but this 'intimacy weekend'? You think they've gone for counseling now?"

"Sure, what else…Oh!" Daria could almost see Quinn's eyes were widened in realization. "You mean they're…"

"Haven't you ever noticed that a lot of these 'intimacy weekend sessions' happen soon after Mom gets done with a big, big case?" Daria edged closer to Quinn and went on. "Quinn, have you ever overheard some pervy boy say about a girl that she's a 'screamer'?"

"Yeah, that's just gross. But...Mom? Oh!'

Daria nodded. "Mom holds it in mostly but sometimes she has to...uhh...let it out. And Dad likes to hear her too. So they need to go to someplace with thicker walls than this mcmansion. God, I can't believe I'm talking about this."

Quinn was silent for a moment then: "Wait, so how do you know all this? You didn't spy on them, did you? Oh I hope not; that would be so gross and sick. No, sorry, Daria, you would never do that."

"No, I didn't spy. For one thing I don't have your night-vision goggles. Let's just say there have been times I've come back from school early without Mom or Dad noticing me and I've had to put on headphones and listen to loud music in my room for an hour or so."

"So they're not going to break up; you're sure, Daria?"

"Positive, Quinn. I'm sure. They'll be driving each other happily crazy for a long time to come, let's hope."

A shooting star flashed above them. Daria won the game by being the first to say, "I give my wish to you."

No Morgendorffer remembered how the game had started. Jake said Quinn had come up with it. Helen believed that Daria was the originator. Forgotten truth was that the sisters had collaborated on the game's invention. The rules were simple: the winner was the first to say "I give my wish to you." upon seeing a falling star. The losing sister would then have to make a single sincere wish which would make both sisters happy. For both it had been an almost last ditch peace negotiation and they had continued to play the game off and on, albeit grudgingly, throughout the years.

Quinn smiled so broadly that Daria had no problem seeing it in the moonlight. "Easy-peasy, sis. I wish that very soon someone very special and very right for you comes along and makes you very, very happy."

They talked on or just watched the stars. Grey traces of dawn tinged the eastern sky as the two sisters travelled back to their beds for a peaceful sleep.


	12. Daria's Beautiful World

**Arrows through Her Heart**

_Chapter Twelve: Daria's Beautiful World_

Daria and related characters and situations are the property of Viacom / MTV Networks. This work is strictly for the entertainment of Daria fans and not for any monetary or material gain whatsoever. All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Daria turned her arrow 120 degrees in the fletching jig until the jig made the crisp click indicating it was in the proper position for the third and last feather. She clipped the black index feather into a clamp and carefully applied a thin bead of adhesive. The adhesive instantly bonded the feather onto the arrow shaft as she slid the clamp onto the jig. She stepped back and stretched, waiting the recommended duration before removing the arrow from the clamp and jig.

She set it upright with three other arrows in the wooden stand her father had made. A small satisfied smile played at her lips. Daria would fletch two more arrows today and tomorrow she would finish them with sharp one-hundred grain field points. Another such session and she would have twelve new arrows, all fletched with black and green feathers. Twelve arrows she would make, replacing the dozen arrows which she had given to Mr. DeMartino.

Daria had resisted snapping Trent Lockher's presents over her knee and under her boots, unable to punish such beautiful things for what she had witnessed from Trent. Her former teacher had been delighted to get the arrows. In return Mr. DeMartino had taught her how to assemble arrows and lent her the jig and other equipment and materials.

Next year, maybe next summer or maybe even that fall with Tom Zhang, she would go into the woods and sloughs to gather materials and make her arrows from scratch. Well, except for the steel target points, of course.

"_I bet Jane's mom would get into knapping flint," _she thought.

"Those are beautiful. You're an artist." Quinn offered her a full-strength soda while sipping from a diet version herself. "But, eww, the smell, that stuff can't be good for you. I'm glad you have the garage doors open."

"The temptation to alter the consciousness is strong in this one," Daria deadpanned. "But I've seen Jane get loopy from painting with the windows closed. Not a pretty sight."

They stepped out of the garage to the empty driveway and stood in the bright sunshine of another blue-sky, picture-perfect Lawndale morning. Birds flew in the windless sky. Neighbors' lawns were being shorn and trimmed, the sweetly pungent scent of cut grass wafting through the street. All in all, a day to make Daria look around for something worthy of being kicked. Maybe the epoxy fumes and wood stain were getting to her; she felt quietly satisfied and pleasantly content.

Quinn scrutinized her sister's face and bearing, unable to read anything into either. That short summer Daria had been more open, expressive, sharing, forthcoming and honest with her emotions than any time since Quinn could not remember when. Now Daria was once more impassively regarding the world through her thick glasses. More imposing if possible, Quinn reflected, all that archery had given her sister wonderful posture, her bearing and slim black jeans tucked into high black boots making her appear taller than life.

A cheerful whistle made the girls look down the sidewalk. Instead of their usual letter-carrier, a thirty-something, curvy blonde woman came jauntily down the street.

"Hi girls. Lovely day," she said as she turned up their sidewalk giving Daria and Quinn a wide smile. She whistled a bit more as she dropped the day's mail down the Morgendorffer mail slot.

Quinn shook her head as she looked between her suddenly tongue-tied sister and the letter carrier. Some part of Daria reflected that she should probably kick herself to get restarted as she took in the sight of the short blonde woman bouncing down the sidewalk in dorky, strangely eye-catching blue uniform shorts.

Some other part of her heard rhythmic snip-swish snipping sounds from across the street. A shirtless, sandy-haired man in his early twenties was pushing a reel lawn mower. She noted his well-defined muscles, a couple tattoos and the fact that he was probably not any taller than Quinn.

Daria looked down the sidewalk in time to see the letter-carrier turn the corner, look back at them, wave and, Daria thought, wink.

_ "Hmm, it might be nice to dance with someone I can look straight in the eye."_

"_Is this what being bi means? I look around and see prospects everywhere? Creepy." _

She looked at the boy across the street; sweat was just beginning to shine on his chest and wide shoulders.

"_Maybe that's not so bad. 'The world is a fine place and worth fighting for." _She thought of the Hemingway quote she had heard in 'Se7en', one of her favorite movies.

"He's single, his name is Steve, he's gonna be a senior at Crestmore this fall, close to you I guess, and he interred over the summer in Taiwan or somewhere," Quinn's information brought Daria back to their driveway.

"You probably mean 'interned', Quinn. 'Interred' would mean he was into burying people. You know him?" Daria was a bit disappointed. Did Quinn date every boy in the greater tri-county area?

"Only from the database Sandi keeps of most of the eligible guys around here." Quinn looked at Daria and sighed. "I'll get the mail, sis."

Daria returned to the depths of the garage. She set another cedar shaft in the fletching jig and put on a pair of plastic gloves, being finicky about getting chemicals on her fingers. She was just spreading a bead of adhesive on a feather when Quinn came into the garage waving a small envelope.

"It's from Kat," Quinn announced.

The sisters stared at each other until Quinn asked, "Umm, is that enough glue?"

Daria looked down, cursed and released her hard grip on the tube of adhesive. The goo was dripping off the now-ruined feather onto the jig and arrow shaft. She began to clean up the mess, not even looking at Quinn or the letter

"Um, I'll just put it on Dad's tool chest," Quinn offered but not making a move to do so and clearly curious.

Daria bit her lip, her usual courage and conviction failing. "How about you read it Quinn? If you think I should hear it then read it to me."

Quinn looked about to object but she nodded and slit the envelope open with a small knife which Daria kept as part of her tools. Quinn read the short message silently then held the splotched paper up for Daria to see.

"There's tear stains all over this."

"You're into chemistry now. Analyze it to see if it isn't Lawndale's hard water and table salt."

"I'll read it too you, okay? Ready?"

Daria nodded tightly.

"There's a lot of cross-outs and smudges but here goes. 'Daria, I am sorry. Please forgive me. I could write that a thousand times and would never be enough. Tell me to write it a thousand times. I will if you forgive me and see me again. No one but you ever got and is as close to my heart. I could not trust only myself to keep you there so I did stupid thing. Please forgive me. Kat.' That's it. Wanna read it yourself?"

Daria shook her head. "Just put it back in the envelope." She took the letter from Quinn and looked at it in her hand. She put it in her tool box and closed the lid.

"What do I do, Quinn? If people do something like she did, I cut them out of my life. But…"

Quinn was surprised that Daria was asking for advice but she tried. "I don't know, Daria. I could say something like 'Follow your heart' but I know the heart can pull in a hundred directions. Best I can say is at least sleep on it."

Quinn sucked her lips. "Kat did something bad, but I guess she did it to try to keep you. I don't know if that should matter."

Daria stared at her tool box like she was reading the letter through the lid.

"I should call and apologize."

"What?" Quinn exclaimed. "Apologize? What for?"

"I should never have slapped them. I always think people should not use violence…" She amended herself as Quinn looked scandalized. "Well, outside the family anyway…"

"Daria! If you talk like that I'm going to break every phone in the house and steal your car keys. You don't apologize to them for anything."

"But it was wrong to slap them at least."

"Oh, no no no. If a man doesn't get slapped by a woman at least once in his life he thinks he's not trying hard enough." Quinn's voice and face got harder. "And they deserved it."

"Whatever you say, Quinn." Daria shook her head and moved out to the driveway again. The boy across the street was drinking a beer on his front step.

"Quinn, let's be ladies who lunch. I'll treat you at the Hooters they just opened next to Cashman's. They have salads now and I could go for a bacon cheeseburger." Daria offered with a note of impishness in her deadpan. "Then for dessert we go to that bikini-barista coffee shop. Latte and a pastry. Whaddya say?"

Quinn smiled slyly. "Sure Daria, but only if you go to the Chippendales Revue with me and Stacy tonight."

Daria's eyes brightened. "A night out with the girls? Sounds lovely."


	13. Swing-Shift Daria

**Arrows through Her Heart**

_Chapter Thirteen: Swing-shift Daria_

Daria and related characters and situations are the property of Viacom / MTV Networks. This work is strictly for the entertainment of Daria fans and not for any monetary or material gain whatsoever. All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

The caller's slow drawl made her identity apparent even before she announced her name to Daria, "This is Tiffffany."

"Oh hi, Tiffany, sorry, Quinn's out with Mom for at least another couple hours. I'll tell her you called." Daria had never actually been angry with Tiffany, but she also wanted to have a little as possible to do with her.

Daria thought she heard a soft slurp then swallow. Tiffany's voice took on a new, unfamiliar clarity and conviction, "I wanted to talk to you, Daria. There's this cute, retro dance club, _The Groovy Cove,_ in Briarwood. I was wondering if you wanted to go there on Saturday night. It's eighteen plus and completely safe. They don't let in drugs or alcohol or bullies or anything."

Daria pulled the phone away from her ear and stared at it. After a moment she could hear Tiffany asking if she was still there.

"Yeah, I'm here, Tiffany. You mean with you and Quinn and Sandi and Stacy, and Jeffy, etc., right?"

"No, Daria." Tiffany giggled nervously. "Just you and me. I can drive. Quinn and I made some nice sales recently so the whole night's on me. They have wonderful flatbread; that's close to pizza."

Pleading crept into Tiffany's voice, "Please."

Daria's paranoid tendencies scrambled for some motive. "Does my little sister have anything to do with this?"

"No, no. Look, I...Quinn probably told you about me. I wouldn't blame her at all; she's my best friend and she really looks out for you too. I'm so sick of guys...such beasts. I just want to go dancing with you, Daria, that's all. _Groovy Cove, _then take you home, that's it. I promise. Daria, I'm sorry I disrespected you in school. We were all so dumb then in the Fashion Club. Quinn saw that first, I know. You were so smart and beautiful. And you weren't afraid of anyone and you stood up for your beliefs. I never dared say anything then that could get back to Sandi." Her voice trailed off as Tiffany probably realized she was starting to both prattle and sound desperate.

"Are the words 'For a good time call Daria Morgendorffer' scrawled in women's cans from here to Baltimore?"

"No, no." Tiffany laughed at what she thought must be an attempt at humor. "Daria, it sounds dumb, but it takes one to know one, you know. I have good gaydar. Sorry. Uhm, I don't blame you if you never want to see me again, but...it's a nice place! Katy and I, we went there a couple times and had a super time just dancing and hanging out. You might know her. She does your bow and arrow thing too."

Daria's blood ran cold. "Katy? Does she also call herself Kat?"

"Yes! That's her, I guess."

"And you two dated?"

"Well, not dating exactly," Tiffany became cautious. "She was new in town and I was new to girls, mostly. She sort of mentored me and I just showed her around. That's all. Really."

Daria's stomach fell deeper, deeper down the rabbit hole. Her resolve found fresh, firm grounding as Tiffany again attempted to ask her out without sounding pleading and needy.

"You know what, Tiff? Let's go. Saturday night? Sure."

"You will? Oh, that's fabulous!" Daria could sense her dancing with delight. "Could you wear what you usually wore in school? Do you still have those things? I'm going to put on a green velvet hotpants outfit. It'll match your blazer. Velvet is soooo not stylish, but this is so retro go-go girl cool."

"Yep, Tiffany, for you I'd love to. I still have all that old stuff."

"Great! Oh, and, Daria, do you know how to swing dance?"

"Oh, yeah, Tiffany, yeah, I think I can definitely swing."

**THE END**


	14. Author's Note

Thank you all for reading "Arrows Through Her Heart" to the end. Writing this tale was an interesting exercise in the creative process. I started with the germ of an idea: which sport would be a good fit for Daria. What would be a reasonable choice for her to take up after she left Lawndale?

I considered quite a few activities; team sports were out immediately. I could not see our favorite cynic playing on a women's basketball team.

I realized pretty quickly too that I'm a lazy researcher and I should stick to something I already knew a little about.

Bowling? I like bowling but I don't think I'm the one to write about Daria contemplating a 6-10 split.

Olympic fencing? I could totally see Daria using a pistol-grip épée. Quinn would make a wonderfully dramatic, theatrical sabre fencer. But fencing requires more human interaction and cooperation than I thought Daria was ready for. Likewise for martial arts: karate, judo, etc.

When I focused on archery the story wrote itself. It all came together when I considered the contrasts between traditional archery (favored by Daria and myself) and modern archery with compound bows. And I knew I had to a have a character with aspirations of being an Olympian.

With archery you are ultimately completely dependent on yourself, but you can learn a great deal from others if you are willing to listen and watch. That sounded perfect for Daria at this stage of her life. And it got her out doors.

Once I determined archery as Daria's sport, the basic plot came to me almost whole cloth. But who would be the other archers? I was leery of creating three central original characters.

Charles Ruttheimer III would definitely shoot the most modern, expensive compound bow he could find. Mack Mackenzie would admire the mechanics of a compound bow. Andrea would hunt stags with a primitive long bow. Amanda Lane would be fascinated with knapping flint. Nobody would want to let Kevin or Brittany near sharp objects. I couldn't see any canon characters as being Daria's lovers in this tale, so Jason, Trent and Kat came along.

Dickard wondered what Jane Lane was going to think of everything. I would like to know too. I tried to write Jane in but it seemed like Jane and Trent Lane were always off stage. If I ever rewrite, I want to deal with Daria missing Jane's company more than I have.

I think the energy I would have spent on Jane went into Quinn. I hope everyone enjoyed this Quinn who is smart, a bit slapstick, a bit busybody and very concerned and loving about her sister.

If you read this far you might be ready to lob a large Ultra Cola at the monitor as I left the story with huge, unanswered questions. Maybe someone has great ideas and can extend the story. Daria is taking risks with her heart and she continues to understand herself more and more, and for me, for now, the story is complete.


End file.
